


the world collapses into you

by maikurosaki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Parent Bucky Barnes, Pining, Shrunkyclunks, Slow Burn, Smoking, So much comfort, Swearing, Tenderness, the Barnes sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 95,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maikurosaki/pseuds/maikurosaki
Summary: Bucky Barnes has two jobs, works seventy hours a week, and raises his sisters since their parents’ death four years ago. He is exhausted, stressed, and constantly worried. He doesn’t have the time or patience for anyone’s crap. Too bad Captain America didn’t get the memo.When Bucky unexpectedly meets Steve Rogers, it’s mutual dislike at first sight. In fact, Bucky decides straight away that Rogers is a self-righteous bastard and hopes never to see his face again. Unfortunately, life has a way of mocking Bucky’s plans.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 318
Kudos: 454





	1. In which Bucky Barnes should have known better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story is inspired by the verse _The night collapses into your skin. I am the rain._ from the beautiful poem “Rain” by Kazim Ali.

It was half-past eight on a beautiful September morning and Bucky Barnes had already had it up to here with the world. He was running on five hours of sleep, two coffee cups, and a bacon sandwich that Bunny made for him that morning when they stared bleary-eyed at each other, too tired to question life choices and the ignominy of fate. He really didn’t have the time or the patience for anyone’s bullshit today.

Therefore, it was only natural that he found himself staring incredulously at the beautiful Harley Davidson Street 750 that had been so trashed and disrespected that Bucky wanted to go and find its owner straight away and exchange some words. Strong words. Very strongly-worded words. Well, you got the idea. His hand traveled down on the handles as he checked it for further damage upfront. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t pretty.

He scowled hard at Dugan, his boss, mentor, second father, and main tormentor that morning. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Dugan?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding, son?” His stupid mustache twitched in amusement, which only annoyed Bucky further.

“Seriously, Dugan, what the fuck? Who is this friend and what the fuck did he do to this beautiful lady?”

“Look, he’s no friend of mine.” Dugan crossed his arms, the material of his t-shirt bunching up against his hard-working arms. The logo for _Dugan’s Auto Shop and Design_ sewn on the sleeve stretched on half of his biceps. Bucky briefly thought it was about to burst at the seams. “He’s more of an acquaintance of a friend. Apparently, the guy was involved in an accident and he wanted to have someone working on his bike that was knowledgeable on old-school engines. You came highly recommended.”

“Well, sure, if I came highly recommended, then, of course, I’m going to accept a project that could take me a week to finish and make me delay all the other ones.” Bucky rolled his eyes and then crouched down to check the damage.

At a first glance, it wasn’t difficult to spot the problems: the back fender was non-existent, the back brake discs would have to be replaced, the Revolution engine needed heavy work and it looked like the rear suspension needed replacement. There were a few other parts that he’d have to check, but he knew that there were enough parts damaged that would require replacement and they wouldn’t come cheap.

Bucky focused on the front of the bike and he was glad to see that the front suspension looked good, the telescopic forks in good condition, and the stability of the bike wasn’t completely off-kilter. Well, maybe the situation wasn’t so bad, but it still sent a pang through his chest. He hated to see beautiful bikes turning up like this.

“The guy is giving you free rein on it and money isn’t an issue,” Dugan said. Bucky could feel his eyes boring a hole at the back of his neck. “All he wants is to have it back in tip-top shape. The commission could be quite substantial.”

“It’s good to know because this whole thing could cost him several thousands of dollars. Also, the manual labor won’t come cheap.”

“Why do you think I want to give you the project?” Dugan watched him as he stood up again. “So should I accept it and say it’s possible to do it in two weeks?”

“What about Harlan’s Yamaha?”

“You let me worry about Harlan. Can you take this or not?”

“Dugan, who is this guy?”

“Why do you care? Do you want to take him out on a date or something?”

“Har har, like I’d go out with an asshole that doesn’t take care of his bike as he should.”

“Not that you’d have the time anyways.”

“Wow, you’re a riot this morning, Dum Dum!

“Stop calling me Dum Dum!”

“Hey, it wasn’t me that gave you the nickname.” Bucky smirked when he saw Dugan’s jaw working overtime. “You should have words with Dernier about that.”

“Oh, believe me, I do curse the day I introduced you two. He forgets I know a thing or two about him too, blackmail material to last me a lifetime.” Dugan winked, making Bucky smile some more. “Just tell me if you’re going to do it or not, so I can go back and tell the guy. I don’t have enough time to sit around all day and hold your hand while you cry over beautiful bikes being trashed or something.”

“This is a goddamn tragedy,” Bucky said, waving his hands none too gently at the wrecked motorcycle. “But yeah, tell the asshole I’ll do it. I’ll give you an estimate this afternoon.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Dugan patted him on the shoulder. “That’s why you’re my favorite mechanic.”

“That’s what you told Gabe last week when he managed to find the problem with that blue Camaro.”

His boss didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Instead, he switched his weight from one leg to the other and smirked. “Well then, you’re my second favorite mechanic.”

Bucky shook his head, although he couldn’t hide his smile quick enough if he was to judge by Dugan’s answering grin. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, old man. See if you’re going to laugh when you check how much I’ll charge for manual labor. Also, can I finish McCann’s Honda or are we going to sit here all day and sing Kumbaya?”

“There’s no respect for the elders in this place anymore.”

“You’re just fifteen years older than me, pal.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Dugan patted him on his back and headed towards the back offices. “Have that estimate ready by four!”

“In your dreams!” Bucky hollered back just to be obnoxious and then looked back at the Harley. Damn it, it was going to be a long day!

He returned to his station and began checking a few more things on the Honda that he’d been working on for the past few days, but his thoughts lingered on the Harley. It was the sort of bike that his dad would have loved to get his hands on. Bucky stopped and rubbed at his chest as if the pain of loss was physical, scraping his insides raw even more than four years later. He bit his lip hard and then returned to checking the brake plates on the Honda.

The permanent state of exhaustion in which he had been living for the past four years didn’t stop him from dreaming about his parents again last night. They had been sitting in the living room, talking about Becca’s latest exploit, and his dad had joked about something; Bucky couldn’t remember what it had been about, but his happiness still lingered at the edge of his consciousness, even now as the pain dug deeper, even now as he reluctantly looked at his phone and let himself drown in the futility of making that phone call.

No one was going to answer. Not anymore. The one person that had shared his passion about cars and bikes, the one person who had never judged him even when Bucky refused to go to college and chose to continue working for Dugan (he’d been doing it since he was sixteen-yeas-old) was gone, and that gaping wound was hollow and still voracious deep within him.

He pressed his open palm over the middle of his chest and sucked in a deep breath, counted to seven then exhaled counting down from seven. And another deep breath, and another long exhale. He allowed another thought about his parents, accepting the fact that this was just going to be one of those days when he missed them like crazy. Then another breath.

Bucky blinked several times before focusing again on the classic 80’ Honda that Mike McCann, a pompous financial consultant, had bought roughly three years ago. Apparently, Bucky had been recommended to him by another loyal customer of theirs and so had brought his precious bike to them; and while they didn’t always see eye to eye on some things that needed tweaking, McCann still deferred to Bucky’s expertise.

By lunchtime, he was done with the Honda and had decided to have a look at the Harley again when Dugan passed by his station and scowled at him. Bucky decided that the best course of action was to chew the last piece of his sandwich with his mouth open, just to annoy his boss.

“Stop being so twitchy, old man! I’m going to bring you the estimate by four as you said.”

“You’d better! And I’m not old!”

“I can hear your rusty knees from here, Dugan!” Gabe joined their trash talking. Bucky laughed harder as Dugan hurried back in his office, muttering something about _No respect these days_ and _I swear to God_ and a bunch of other filthy things that only made the men laugh harder at his expense.

✧

That evening, for the first time in the last two weeks, he actually managed to leave in time from work and arrive home at a decent hour. He had been able to give an estimate for the Harley to Dugan, checking in with his usual suppliers for some parts. Dave Harlan had decided to wait on Bucky rather than give his Yamaha to another mechanic, so it was in Bucky’s interest to finish the Harley as quickly as possible and get back to his usual customers. Deciding there wasn’t much he could work on in the meantime, he decided to get home and spend the rest of the afternoon with his sisters.

Bucky barely managed to close the door and yell an exhausted _I’m home_ when Bear shrieked as she came running and slammed into him for a full-body hug. He grunted upon impact, taking one step back, and his arms automatically wrapped around her shoulders. He returned the hug and smiled back when he was met with his sister’s wide grin.

“Bucky, check this out!” she said and shoved a piece of paper in his face. Bucky blinked several times before he could finally focus on the paper and realize that it was Bear’s Calculus test – she’d been worrying about it for the past two weeks and Bucky had been helping her out in the evenings with explaining whatever he could or remembered. All her hard work had paid off though, because a beautiful B+ was circled on the right top corner.

“Hell yes!” He grinned at her and tightened the hug. “Well done, Bear! Didn’t I say you got this? Was I right or was I right?”

“Shut up!” She blushed and buried her face into his chest, squeezing him harder.

“Well, I did tell you you got this.” He kissed the top of her head and murmured softly, “I’m proud of you. You did really well.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She raised her smiling face to him and winked. “I guess I owe you ice cream for that.”

“Chocolate and strawberry mix, here I come.” Bucky chuckled when she groaned and then let her go so he could take his coat off.

“You’re home early,” Becca said, startling him. She took one look at Bear and then her smile widened. “I guess you heard the good news.” He nodded and hung up his coat, then looked at Becca, who was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. The soft curve of her cheek, her smiling lips, her twinkling blue eyes – everything about her was a beautiful echo of their Ma.

“Yes, I did.” Bucky took off his work boots, trying to hide the tired shudder of his bones. “She also knows that she owes me ice cream.”

“Of course she does.” Bear put her fingers in her ears and began singing as she stomped back to the living-room. Becca shook her head and then glanced back in the kitchen. “Wanna take a shower? Dinner should be ready in the next half an hour.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks for doing that, by the way.” Becca just nodded. Bucky could sense her sharp eyes on his exhausted form, on the way his shoulders dropped like unbalanced scales, the weight of their lives pressing obstinately on him. He was grateful for her silence though – he didn’t think he had the necessary strength this evening for another pointless discussion about their lives and what could be done to ease the burden on him.

“And Bunny?” he asked and Becca’s frown deepened but thankfully, she remained silent on the topic that seemed to be on the tip of her tongue.

“She’s at Morgan’s place. She should be back by the time we set out the table.”

“Got it. Okay then, let me grab a shower and I’ll come and help.”

“We have pie for dessert!” Bear yelled from the living room, making them both wince.

“Inside voice, please,” Bucky yelled back and then groaned because, _ugh_ , he was becoming one of _those_ people. “Pie for desert? Is it my birthday or something?”

Becca rolled his eyes. “Shut up! I found Thiago baking in a frenzy this morning, mixing different fruits and trying different textures.” Becca scrunched her nose. “Let’s just say that not all results were a great success, but this apple and pecan pie wasn’t bad at all. And because he used me as a Guinea pig, he gave me one to take home.” Her smile turned into a full-on smirk. “Also, because he _likes_ you so he remembered that you love apple pie.”

Bucky sighed, wiping at his face. “Thiago doesn’t like _like_ me.”

“Well, he thinks you’re adorable.”

“I’m not adorable.”

“Oh, yes you are,” Bear shouted back again.

“Who asked your opinion?” He could hear Bear’s playful giggles. “I see how it’s going to be this evening, all ganging up on your poor little brother, who’s been working hard all day.”

“Let me try and find the world’s smallest violin.”

“Honestly, why do I even –”

“What did I miss?” Bunny asked as she suddenly opened the main door and took in her siblings, still exchanging jabs in the small hallway.

“Bear found out about the ice cream that she owes Bucky for helping her out with her test, and your brother is still in denial about Thiago’s crush on him,” Becca summarized, leaning against the kitchen’s doorway with her lips stretched into a sweet smile. Bunny laughed as she took her coat off as well.

“Oh, Bucky, just date the man already!”

“He’s forty, thank you very much.” Bucky crossed his arms and pouted.

“Don’t be ageist!” Bear replied swiftly as she came back into the hallway and sat on the first step of the inside stairs, smiling like a little elf.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Bunny said, pressing on the last word. “Who wouldn’t want a sugar daddy who literally deals with sugar on a daily basis?”

“Oh my God, how the hell do you even know what a sugar daddy is?” Bucky threw his hands up, utterly horrified. “Actually, no, I don’t want to know.”

“I’m almost eighteen. I do know a couple of things about the world.”

“And I’m glad that you’re a well-informed girl but can we please not use the term sugar daddy and Thiago in the same sentence? Plus, the man doesn’t have a crush on me. He just appreciates hard-working people.”

“Yes, hard-working people that he’d also like to date.” Becca smiled like a shark.

“Okay,” and Bucky raised his hands in defeat, “on this note, I’ll go and take a shower before you hitch me with your boss or someone else for that matter.” He pointed a finger at them. “And don’t even think about making this a subject for our dinner discussion. My love life is off the table.”

“In more ways than one,” Becca mumbled, the corner of her lips turning wider as he scowled at her for good measure.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind you dating Thiago,” Bear added her five cents on the matter. “Imagine all the pastries we could eat for free. All the pancakes!” She sighed dreamily. “Rhubarb pie and double chocolate chip cookies! Bucky, please, pretty please, date Thiago!”

“Sweet baby Jesus! Now you want to sell me to Becca’s boss for free pastries and cookies.” Bucky rolled his eyes and decided it was high time to retreat upstairs before his sisters decided that they did indeed need to pay closer attention to his love life.

“It’s not selling if you get to enjoy them too!” Bunny yelled after him.

“What is a sugar daddy by the way?” he heard Bear asking and boy, was he glad that he wasn’t the oneexplaining that one to her.

He went to his room and quickly undressed before jumping in the shower. He let himself enjoy the water hitting his tense shoulders soothingly for a few minutes, both hands against the tiled wall, eyes closed.

Fuck, he was so tired!

The sudden death of his parents four years ago had almost ruined their family. They both had been working in Upper East Side, the hot spot for the alien attack on that fatal April day. Apparently, the Kree aliens (beings? invaders?) had decided to lay waste to the world, choosing several large Earth cities and then proceeding to send out a large number of troops who killed everyone on sight. Had it not been for the Avengers (again!), they probably would have ruined the entire world.

Unfortunately, large parts of Manhattan, including some parts of Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx had been severely affected, the number of human losses large enough to be incomprehensible and hard to grasp to this day. Though it had seemed like New York had a vigilante or a super-powered being at every street corner, it had still been a hard battle to win.

Bucky shuddered under the hot water. The terror of that day still lingered in the deep corners of his soul, burrowing itself in every sinew of his body.

Rebuilding their lives after such a horrendous attack and the loss of their parents had been a Sisyphus-type of work – Bucky had been the oldest and the only adult so he had to assume parental rights, becoming a guardian to his sisters, desperate to hold on to them and not let them be taken away from him. It had been an easy enough process, in part due to the substantial burden that had been placed on the governmental institutions, the consequences of the attack far-reaching.

They had also been lucky that the house had been fully paid and belonged to them, once the paperwork had been completed. Had it not been for Dugan and his help, Bucky would have gone insane – so much burden had been placed on his shoulders on that deadly day that at times he couldn’t comprehend what was required from him. The financial side of things and the day-to-day tribulations, plus the emotional needs of his sisters, had kept him busy and oblivious to his own needs.

The beautiful sunny afternoons when they had laughed and jokingly chosen funny nicknames were gone. Days like the one when Sarah decided that it wasn’t fair that Bucky and Becca had their nicknames rhyming and she and Laura were stuck to their names so they’d chosen Bear (from gummy bears because Sarah was a sucker for them) and Bunny (because Laura was in her _Sailor Moon_ phase) were gone. The jokes, the laughter, the screaming matches, the lovely dinners together, Dad and Ma being sweet on each other, even after twenty-five years of marriage – all wiped out. In a single day, everything laid to waste.

He sucked in an unsteady breath and finally opened his eyes as he began to wash. Luckily, Dugan had helped him find a second job; the money that had come from Dad’s life insurance had paid for the funeral bills and the legal representation. What was left had been poured in the legal formalities, sorting out ownership paperwork and adopting his sisters. Whatever had remained (and it had been so little) Bucky had used to open a savings account for his sisters, in case something like this happened again.

He rinsed, then turned off the water and changed into a pair of sweats and a baseball shirt. A glance at his tired form in the mirror froze him in his tracks. He looked older than he was probably supposed to look at twenty-seven, with his bearded cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He had chosen to cut off his hair after his parents’ death and since then, he had kept it relatively short. He was on the lithe side, the stress of holding on to two jobs and keeping everything together taking a toll on him. He passed his fingers through his hair, then averted his eyes and got out of the bathroom.

They were better now. Much better. And he didn’t need more as long as his sisters were alright. Not that he’d be able to find the time for fun or, you know, a man to share such burdens with him. He huffed as he put his work clothes in the hamper. He only needed his sisters to be okay and have a good quality of life. The rest meant nothing.

He made it downstairs just in time to sit with everyone to the table. Becca had made spaghetti with meatballs, the whole kitchen flooded with the delicious scent of a home-cooked meal. The light bounced against the yellow furniture that Ma had insisted would brighten the kitchen. She had also chosen chairs of different colors for the table, determined to bring as much cheer as possible to their Flatbush house. _Bucky, it’s as blue as your eyes_ , she had said as she pointed at his blue chair. Becca’s was red, Bunny’s yellow and Bear’s pink. Dad’s had been purple and Ma’s green. They still lingered at the table, a stark reminder of what they lost. Ma had always had a passion for art and bright cheerful colors and Dad had been more than accepting of her over-the-top tastes.

“Hell yeah!” Bucky exclaimed as he grabbed a seat at the table then rubbed his hands together, eyeing the generous portion of spaghetti and meatballs that Becca laid out for him. “This smells delicious!”

“Tastes good too!” Bear chipped in with her mouth full.

“You’re just happy you didn’t have to cook tonight.” Becca shook her head fondly at him but couldn’t hide her satisfied smile quick enough.

“True that.” Bucky took a mouthful of spaghetti. “Still delicious though. Better than the casserole that I had in mind.”

“You’re a regular Gordon Ramsey these days, Bucky,” Bunny added helpfully.

“Hey, better than frozen pizza!”

“That’s what you think.”

“Then how about chicken and rice tomorrow?”

“With salad?”

“If you stop on your way back from school to pick up some.” Bucky made a mental inventory of their fridge. “I’ll make a small list if you don’t mind. I think you might need to pick up a couple of other things.”

“Sure.” Bunny took a sip of her orange juice. “Morgan was going to come by tomorrow to study. We have a project together for the History class. I’ll make her work for the custard doughnuts I promised her.”

“Polite and evil at the same time. I like it!” They bumped fists and she chuckled.

“I put some aside for your lunch tomorrow. Also, don’t forget that tomorrow evening I’m going out with Tina and Karim to that gallery opening,” Becca said.

“Oh yeah, it’s the one with the sculptures, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Bucky, the one with the sculptures.” Becca rolled her eyes at him playfully. “One of Karim’s sculptures has been chosen for the main exhibition. I’m not sure how much it will help him though since the gallery is small and new.”

“Still some exposure is better than no exposure, right?”

“I guess so.” Becca shrugged. “The problem is that it lacks the diversity that they had advertised in the beginning. They changed the display several times and they seemed still on the fence when it came to the main theme of the exhibition.”

“What was the initial idea behind it?” Bunny asked, and Becca began ranting about the art politics in general. Bucky listened carefully, grunting in all the right places, but otherwise kept it to himself and let their voices wash over him. It was good to be home early!

✧

“You know I wasn’t joking about you going out with Thiago,” Becca commented later on that evening after their sisters had retreated upstairs.

He had been checking all evening for a particular part with his usual suppliers to no avail. Becca joined him earlier, already showered and changed into her pyjamas, apparently to finish a book about Rodin. He should have recognized the set up. 

Bucky groaned and rubbed his eyes with his hands before looking up at her. She was resting her book on her chest, her feet laying over the arms of the armchair, looking comfortable and sleepy.

“I know.” He sighed and shuffled on the couch. “But Thiago is your boss and he’s been really good to you. I don’t want to ruin that.”

Thiago had been the one to offer Becca a job at his bakery – she’d go in at four o’clock in the morning to help him out with the baking and preparing for opening at six-thirty; she’d work until eight on weekdays and twelve on Saturdays and get a lot of pastries as well. Thiago was also paying her well, offered her medical insurance, and he allowed her a freedom that few employers could have afforded her. Bucky was profoundly grateful to him, and this very respect stopped him from going out with Thiago just for convenience’s sake.

“You wouldn’t ruin anything. You’d just go out on a date with him and after, he’d be okay if you didn’t want a repeat performance.”

“Becca.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, seriously, I appreciate what Thiago is doing for you, but I don’t want to go out with him. For that matter, I don’t want to go out with anyone, okay? I barely have time to breathe in between jobs and home. Even less for dating.”

“You haven’t been dating for four years now. You need to start looking out for yourself a little more.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean dating.”

“Bucky, you worry too much. We’re doing fine, money-wise. You’ve been keeping on top of everything. I’m also working, and Bunny has been selling those hand-sewn handbags on Etsy. Maybe you should cut yourself some slack.”

“Cut myself some slack?”

“Yes, you know, going out with friends, dating, sleep until eleven on Saturday, those kind of things.”

“I _am_ going out.”

“Going out with Darrell and Gabe every once in a blue moon doesn’t count.” She rolled her eyes so hard at him he almost heard them spraining. “I meant, check out a club every once in a while, see a movie with other people than us.”

“Fuck, I’m too old for clubs! And I like going to the movies with you.”

“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.” Becca stood up and pulled her legs under her, abandoning her book on the coffee table. “You’re not too damn old for clubs. You’re only twenty-seven. You should be going on dates and going out with friends, not working two jobs and spending all your free time with us.” She raised her hand to stop him when he opened his mouth. “I love the fact that you’re here for us. You’re the best brother we could have asked for, Bucky. But we worry about you.”

The sudden shake of her voice made him abandon his laptop on the couch and stand up as well, facing his sister. Becca’s mouth had crumpled in unhappiness.

“Becca, I’m fine, I promise.” Bucky rubbed at his face. “Yeah, I’m a little tired but –”

“A little tired? Bucky, you lost weight, you smoke a lot – don’t think I didn’t notice – you work seventy hours a week. You’re dead on your feet.” Becca pointed a finger to the stairs. “Even the girls noticed that. Bunny is worried that you might keel over before you reach thirty, and Bear asked me the other day if you’re sick.”

“Fuck!” He swallowed convulsively, throat tight, something bitter and shameful clenching at his chest. He cleared his voice, trying to sound calm and conciliatory. “Becca, you know how the situation stands. Yes, we could manage with what I’m earning as a mechanic, but it still wouldn’t be enough. I’m keeping Bunny and Bear in school, you know how much that means in terms of money. You’re working, but a lot of money goes to your tuition and your own needs. Not to mention I can’t leave the roof like that for another winter and I have no clue how much that will cost.”

“I know, I know.” She bit her lip hard and pulled her sleeves over her hands as if she could shield herself from the reality of their situation. Bucky working a lot had always been a point of contention between them, though they both knew it had been necessary. “Maybe I could get a second job.”

“Out of the question!” Bucky replied instantly with all the authority he could muster. “You work hard enough as it is. Plus, you help me so much at home. We make a good team, Becca.” He leaned forwards and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently. “You already help me out so much. The girls too.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re carrying all the weight around here?” Her voice wavered, her eyes bright and liquid.

“That’s my job as a big brother.” Bucky knelt in front of her and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m going to be all right, Becca. I promise. I don’t need to go clubbing or date someone just to feel better about my life.”

“But I don’t want you to be lonely,” she replied, hiding her face into his shoulder. “I want you to have someone too.”

“That’s why you keep on yapping about Thiago?”

She nodded. “He would be good for you. He really likes and admires you. I’m sure he’d take care of you.”

“If I promise to think about it, would that make you feel better?” Bucky said, his hands suddenly clammy at the mere thought of letting someone in. Since Terry, there hadn’t been anyone – the few dates he’d been on after everything made him feel clumsy and tongue-tied. His charm had suddenly dried up, his tongue was clumsy and foreign to his own self. But these were not things his little sister needed to know.

“Really?” She raised her head and looked carefully at him. “Promise?”

“I can’t promise to agree going out with him, and please don’t tell him anything yet. But I will consider it.”

“That’s all I want.” She leaned back a little. “But promise me you’ll take it seriously.”

“Promise.” He gave her his pinky and they shook on it. “But if I go out with him and it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to hear more about it.”

“Okay.” Becca quickly hid her yawn behind her hand. “Oh yeah, I think it’s time I go to sleep.” Bucky made himself comfortable on the couch again as she marked the page of her book and stood up, stretching languidly. “You’ll keep your promise?”

“Have I ever broken any promise to you?”

“No, no you haven’t.” Her sharp eyes studied his face and whatever conclusion she came up to, she nodded once at him and trudged towards the stairs.

“Becca,” he called out, stopping her in her tracks. “I didn’t lie when I said that I was content with the life I have, okay?”

“I know, but don’t you want more for yourself?”

She left him there with her parting words to mull over. Did he want more for himself? Bucky leaned back against the backrest of the couch and stared at the ceiling. His life was predictable, secure in its routine and the safety of his jobs. The certainty that he’d always have a place at Dugan’s auto shop and Dernier’s warehouse, the knowledge that he was really close to his sisters and they cared for each other, the comfort of the few friends he had – yes, it was enough for him.

For now, it was enough.

Famous last words.

✧

His life continued much the same way for the following weeks. In between his work at Dugan’s and Dernier’s, he’d managed to take the girls on a trip to Smithsonian and even splurged on an evening out with Gabe and his wife. The parts for the Harley had come quicker than expected and he had managed to finish its repairs in record time. Even Dugan had praised him for his promptness, though he couldn’t help commenting on the jealous regret with which Bucky sent the Harley back to its owner. He almost thought of writing a note to the guy, something like _Watch after your fucking bike, you dumbass_. But something told him it wouldn’t have gone well with Dugan. Or the customer, for that matter.

All in all, the surprisingly warm end of September caught Bucky debating in earnest whether he should accept going on a date with Thiago. The idea, in fact, was beginning to look more and more appealing – since that pie, the man had also sent a lemon cake and fresh batches of chocolate chip cookies. It wasn’t so bad being wooed with pastries. They also had some things in common: they were hard-working men, with a tight and crazy schedule. And call him shallow, but Thiago was ruggedly handsome and clever; maybe dating him wasn’t such a bad idea. The only hang-up he had was the fact that he’d be going out with Becca’s boss and he couldn’t quite believe that refusing a second date would be without consequences.

He’d actually been debating this all morning so by the time Bucky made his way into the cool interior of _Dugan’s Auto Shop and Design_ that morning, he had already questioned his life choices twice, spilled coffee on himself thrice, and sworn multiple times at the general stupidity of Brooklyn drivers (well-deserved, he might add!). It didn’t help that as soon as he changed into his uniform and came out of the staff’s common room, Dugan was waiting for him, an unhappy curl to his mouth.

“Bucky, do you remember the Harley Davidson that you worked on a couple of weeks ago?” Bucky didn’t like the worried pinch of Dugan’s eyebrows but nodded in assent. “The owner would like to ask you some questions.”

“I thought you said you were doing a favor for a friend.” Bucky took a sip of his now tepid coffee and tried not to think about how tired he was and how he really didn’t want to make nice with customers. But he bit his lip and didn’t voice his annoyance, preferring to focus on finishing his coffee.

“I am, I mean I was.” Dugan wiped at his face, the corner of his lips falling down in dissatisfaction. “But honestly, had I known how much shit this would bring, I would have turned them down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on! Come with me, kid, and I’ll introduce them to you. It will all make more sense afterwards.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Bucky emptied whatever was left of his coffee and followed Dugan into his office at the back of the garage. “Is there a problem, Dugan? Are they complaining about the job I did?”

“Nothing of the sort. At least, I don’t think so. They just said they wanted to ask for your professional expertise, whatever the fuck that means.” His boss rolled his eyes and scratched his cheek. “They came here this morning, throwing big words around and generally making a nuisance of themselves.” They stopped in front of the door and Dugan’s hand came upon Bucky’s shoulder a few times. “Listen, kid, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“Jesus Christ, Dugan, you’re giving me the heebie-jeebies. What the hell is going on? Did the bike belong to a drug lord or something?”

“Or something.” And then Dugan did another thing he’d never done before. He actually knocked to the door of his own goddamn office and let himself in, followed by Bucky. “We’re here,” he announced uselessly.

There were two people in the room, Bucky noticed as he entered the office. A man and a woman were sitting in front of Dugan’s desk; the woman was looking at something on her phone while the man was staring at Dugan’s photos on his desk. They both turned towards Bucky and Dugan with such a synchronicity that a cold shiver licked at Bucky’s spine.

The door closed behind him with a muted click, a foreboding sound if Bucky ever heard one. Then he straightened his spine. He was confident that his work on the Harley was absolutely impeccable and therefore whatever these two assholes were going to complain about, it’d better not be about that.

He took in the two strangers as his boss made his way behind his desk. They both looked familiar. Bucky wondered whether they had come to the garage before, maybe to check Bucky’s credentials or his experience in working with such pretentious models as the Harley had been, prying his loyalcustomers for any useful information. They would definitely not be the only ones to do so. Bucky was more than used to the way some people treated the mechanics – either as greedy frauds that always overcharged and found faulty parts to their cars or bikes; or as people dealing in esoteric practices, involving mechanical magic and whatnot, capable of repairing just about everything (and no, Bucky couldn’t always fix everything). 

They were both attractive, although there was a sort of unyielding cut to the man’s jaw, a sort of cruel determination in the woman’s eyes. The simple beauty of both of them was arresting, and Bucky thought bitterly that somehow attractive people always managed to find each other. However, his instinct paid attention and warned him that everything about them screamed dangerous so Bucky’s back automatically stiffened in response. Yeah, he definitely didn’t like these two.

" This is James Barnes,” Dugan cut off the sudden tension in the room, “the mechanic that worked on your Harley, Mr. Rogers. Bucky, I think you are familiar with who Mr. Rogers is.”

Bucky whipped his head around to Dugan and scowled for good measure. How the fuck was he supposed to know who the hell this man was? He was functioning on five hours of sleep and a tepid cup of coffee today. Was he supposed to be aware of every Joe, John, and Mike in New York? Did Dugan think he had the time to watch TV these days or something?

When he turned towards the customers, the woman’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” Rogers said as he stood up and holy shit, was this man built like a brick shit house or what? The checkered shirt stretched tightly over his wide shoulders, doing a good job in pointing out an impressive shoulders-to-waist ratio. Bucky blinked several times, trying a little harder to focus on what the man was saying. “My name is Steve Rogers and this is my friend Natasha Romanov. Nice to meet you.”

Bucky grunted in acknowledgment, ignoring the calloused warmth of Rogers’ hand or Romanov’s elegant fingers as they shook his hand, a permanent sort of grime under his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to scrub it out.

“James Barnes,” he said curtly. “I heard you wanted to ask something about the –”

The necessary words vanished instantly, his tongue suddenly clumsy and thick in his mouth. What the fuck? Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph, and just about every goddamn saint in the Catholic canon! Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov. _Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov_! Captain America and Black Widow! Did the Harley belong to one of them? Goddamn it, no wonder Dugan didn’t want to divulge who the owner had been! Bucky swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tense, and waved dismissively at his lack of words.

“Mr. Barnes,” Black Widow said with the sort of nonchalance probably reserved to spies and deadly assassins only, “two days ago, a device was found inside Steve’s Harley. Would you be able to tell us what this is?” She took out a transparent bag and gave it to Bucky, who picked it up with a small crease between his eyebrows. There was a small device inside of it – a black box, no bigger than a cent coin, three inches thick. There were several lights and what looked like two tiny buttons on it. Definitely high-tech, hard to find on the high street market.

“No, ma’am,” he said after a while and handed back the bag. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“But you can confirm this is definitely not a part needed for a Harley Davidson’s engine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky glanced at Dugan then back at the Avengers in the room. “Is this about this piece of technology? Sorry, I only repair bikes. I’m not an expert on high-brow technology.”

“Mr. Barnes, this device was found here,” she continued, ignoring his words. Bucky followed her finger and realized that there was a rough sketch of the Harley engine on Dugan’s desk. He came closer and checked the place where she pointed.

He grunted again in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I understand. It would be very difficult to place something there without affecting the integrity of the engine.” He looked back to her but any trace of civility was gone from her flint eyes. If the eyes were the windows to someone’s soul, then Window’s one was hard and unflinching.

“Mr. Barnes, you were the only person to have access to the engine,” she said, deceptively reasonable. “You personally conducted the repairs and were in charge of its functioning. Two days ago, this device was identified in such a position that only a professional would have access to.”

Bucky’s anger turned hot like lava, thick like molasses and just as deadly in its eruption. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking implying that I had anything to do with that? That I wanted to kill Captain America, although I had no clue that I was repairing his motorcycle?”

“We aren’t implying anything, Mr. Barnes.”

“He had his Harley back for more than a week now.” He gritted his teeth, his chin jutting out. “Literally, anyone could have placed that thing.”

“But not without taking the engine apart.” She was absolutely relentless. “The bike has parked only in two other locations, the Avengers Tower and in front of his home. Both places are heavily monitored soall video feeds have been double-checked. No one touched the bike during this time frame.”

“So what? You think that somehow I did it?”

“Well, you did just agree that this device couldn’t be placed without taking the engine apart. That eliminates just about everyone. Except you.”

Bucky’s heart began hammering against the walls of his chest, a cold sweat breaking over his back. Fuck! These guys weren’t kidding around. They really thought that he was fucking guilty and while they didn’t perceive him as being the criminal mastermind behind it, they definitely thought that he did someone’s dirty work.

“Now wait just a minute,” Dugan cut in again, this time standing up as well, his cheeks red with fury. “When you came in this morning, you said that you wanted Bucky’s professional opinion on what you found. You didn’t mention accusing him of attempting murder or whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

“We definitely didn’t intend to accuse Mr. Barnes of anything.” Captain Rogers stood up straighter, his voice solemn and detached. He sounded like he did in one of the Avengers’ press conferences, a grave and self-righteous prick. “However, you do have to admit that all evidence points in his direction. We are actually doing you the courtesy of coming here and discussing these findings with you directly, instead of sending a Strike team as it had been initially suggested.”

“The courtesy?” Pure white fury smashed against the walls of his veins as his hands trembled in complete despondency. This fucker wasn’t joking. Fucking fuck! “What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you guys? What reason would I have to kill Captain America?”

“This device was not to kill him, just to track and trace.” The Widow crossed her arms in a deceptively relaxed position. “It would send a constant loop of tracing information to an undisclosed location. It would make its owner constantly aware of Captain’s position, therefore rendering him vulnerable to any sudden attack.”

“Fuck, no wonder the world is so screwed up with people like you defending it,” Bucky sneered. Captain Rogers clenched his jaw so hard that Bucky could hear the grinding of the back teeth.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Bucky tightened his hands into fists. “You come here and you suggest that I – what? Put a tracking device inside of an engine that I didn’t even know belonged to Captain America’s motorcycle?”

“It is a possibility.”

“Really? Then please enlighten me as to what would make me do that?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, age twenty-seven, parents dead four years ago when New York wasattacked by the Kree nation. Currently lives with his three sisters, Rebecca, Laura, and Sarah.” She looked bored as she put his entire measly life on the table as if he was nothing, just another fucking target to her. Though Bucky didn’t doubt the deadly gravity of her words and what that would mean forhim – that he would be trialed, judged, and found guilty in her eyes. “So – Money? Revenge? Selling the information to the highest bidder? Doing someone’s dirty work? There are plenty of reasons for a man like you to attempt doing this.”

Bucky squeezed his hands into fists so hard, he could actually feel his nails digging into his calloused skin.

“Since you fucking checked me up, you will already have found out that I’d never do anything to jeopardize my sisters. Ever! Now, family might not mean much to you, but it means fucking everything to me. I provide for them, I’m their goddamn parent.” His voice came out strangled in fury and hurt, and he had to clear his voice before adding, “If I wanted dirty money, I wouldn’t be busting my ass, working seventy hours per week, and I certainly wouldn’t need to place no fucking tracking device on Captain America’s bike. Of whose ownership, by the way, I had no clue about.”

“I actually hid the identity of the owner from Bucky,” Dugan cut in, face hard. “Now, Mr. Barton asked me to take in your bike as a favor, which I did. But bringing this crap in my house makes me regret the decision.”

“Someone else could have provided Mr. Barnes with the information.”

“Bucky didn’t do fuck all! And you know it!”

“Check your damn feeds again!” Bucky snapped, confronting Captain Rogers. “There must be an error! I didn’t fucking do it!” Captain America stared back with all the righteousness of a man secure in the knowledge that he was always right. Those blue eyes that whole spreads in magazines and newspapers had been dedicated to stared down at Bucky sharp and inexorable. The beauty of them was cold and rigid.

These people! These fucking people! They didn’t believe him. Bucky could already see how he was about to be hauled up and placed in SHIELD’s custody, never to be heard of or seen for the rest of his life. Who the fuck knew what they did to people like him? Probably lock him up in a god-forsaken prison. He swallowed hard, the white noise of his blood pumping against his eardrums impossible to ignore.

“We aren’t accusing you of being a criminal mastermind, Mr. Barnes,” Captain Rogers said at last, though it was clear he didn’t believe one word. “We think that maybe someone threatened you or your sisters, coerced you to attach that device or –”

The sudden shrill of a phone interrupted him and Black Widow pulled out an impressive-looking phone, Stark logo shiny and bright at the back of it.

“Yes.” She listened to the person on the other end of the line, her face a mask of blank politeness. “I understand.” She terminated the conversation and looked over her shoulder at Rogers. “Apparently, we owe Mr. Barnes an apology.” She focused her flint stare on him. “We’re sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mr. Barnes. It appears that the video feed had been tampered with after all. The guilty party is being brought in as we speak. We won’t waste your time any longer.”

“What the hell?” Dugan intervened, this time a vein popping on his forehead.

“That’s it?” Bucky sneered, stopping both Avengers in their tracks. “You’re sorry you inconvenienced me?” He repeated the words with all the incredulity he could muster. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We are sorry, Mr. Barnes,” Rogers said and for once, a flighty emotion flickered on his hard-to-read face. “I promise you that we checked the video feed on both locations several times before coming here. Unfortunately, though it happens rarely, we were mistaken. We apologize for the wasted time.”

Bucky gritted his teeth so hard it hurt. “Fuck your apologies!”

“I don’t know what more do you want from us, son.”

The whirlwind of emotions was choking Bucky. Was he actually having a stand-off with Captain America in Dugan’s goddamn office? The unreal nature of it all was almost hilarious in its absurdity. He fisted his hands so hard, his nails dug in relentless and sharp.

“I’m not your son! Also, find another fucking shop next time you trash your bike, pal! Your lot is not welcome here anymore!”

The ugly little smile that stretched Rogers’ full lips was full-on petty. “If we ever were.”

Rogers and Romanov nodded curtly once and then walked out of the office, leaving Bucky and Dugan staring back after them, the unreal situation making them linger in a stifling silence.

Then abruptly, the walls began to close in on Bucky. The walls were closing in on him, his entire chest unbearably tight, fear and despondency uncoiling like a snake ready to attack. Swinging around, Bucky pushed the door with one trembling hand, ignoring Dugan’s voice calling out after him, and ran out, amongst cars and bikes waiting to be checked, pins and needles in his legs as if he had stood in one uncomfortable position for too long.

Each gulp of breath was more painful than the rest, the white noise of his blood rushing to his ears now drowning out everything else. Distantly, he could hear his own ragged breath, each more painful than the next, wave after wave of nausea crashing into him relentlessly. Hysterically, Bucky realized that he was having a panic attack – it gave him enough presence of mind to sink to the floor, behind a car, forcing himself to count in increments as he inhaled and exhaled. He pressed his hands against the asphalt, cold and grubby, concentrating on the gravelly sensation.

The heels of his palms pressed harder still, forcing him to be anchored in the present. He put his head in between his knees and sucked in shuddering breath after shuddering breath, aware that his heart wasn’t usually so prone to digging itself out of his chest.

 _Fuck Captain America!_ he thought viciously. _Fuck him and the high horse he rode on!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm greatly indebted to [ fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for her awesome skills as a beta and for saving me from a hell of my own making. The remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. :)
> 
> Yes, I'm back at writing shrunkyclunks, and yes, it's official, you can pry this trope from my cold dead hands. :)) The story will be updated once a week, on a Wednesday.


	2. In which Bucky doesn't like surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a few surprises. He's less than pleased.

"Are you all right?”

Bucky opened one eye and stared up at Dugan, who looked like he had swallowed up a hurricane, his eyes all thunder. Yet, Bucky couldn’t find in him to muster enough sympathy for his boss. After all, he was the one who had put him in the situation. Granted, it had been unknowingly, but still.

Bucky shrugged, unable to open his mouth yet. He had been sitting there for who knew how long but hadn’t been able to move his legs – he had seemingly sunk to the bottom of an ocean, the world fuzzy and muffled around him. The prospect of coming up to the surface was daunting to say the least.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind, but his voice still came out weak and exhausted when he answered his boss, “I’ve been better.”

Dugan’s mouth crumpled in unhappiness and he sat down across from Bucky, leaning against the other car. Had he felt better, Bucky would have laughed at the way two men, both of them quite well-built, made themselves small in between two cars as if they were playing hide and seek with other friends. For a quiet little moment, he let himself enjoy the tar of his half-smoked cigarette, bursting on his tongue, anchoring him in the current situation.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Dugan said, lighting up a cigarette of his own and inhaling the smoke greedily. “I didn’t think they were going to be such assholes about it.”

“I don’t want to ever be in the dark about a customer again, is that clear?” Bucky took another drag from his cigarette as he passed a shaky hand through his disheveled hair. “Especially if it’s a goddamn Avenger or another vigilante or whatever the fuck they call themselves these days.”

“Yeah, of course. Trust me, after this, I’m also inclined to stick my foot where the sun don’t shine and be done with them.”

“Pal, I almost lost everything in a matter of ten minutes. I think it’s more than a stick your foot where the sun don’t shine kind of a situation.” There was such a heady sense of unease and despair clawing at his throat, that all his words melted on his tongue like acid. “If they had taken me, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Fuck that! Nobody could have been able to do anything and my sisters would have been left all alone in the world. I don’t fucking care if President Ellis himself recommends a customer, you run their names by me first, got it?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it, Dugan. I can’t afford to be in this kind of situation again.”

“Yeah, Bucky, I got it.” Dugan rubbed his face and then took another drag from his cigarette. “I’m really sorry. Barton asked for a favor and I thought that fixing Captain America’s bike was going to bring in big business for you. Maybe enough to make you quit Dernier’s.”

“How was _that_ going to happen?”

“He was going to mention to his friends at SHIELD or Strike or whatnot. I guess I was stupid to trust them.”

“No, don’t say that, boss. It’s just these guys are so damn paranoid that if anything bad happens to their cars or bikes, they’ll come knocking on our door first. And we can scream from the rooftops that we’re innocent, they’re not going to believe it.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair again, pulling hard at it, his cigarette wasting away on the corner of his lips. “Yeah, let’s never do this again, agreed?”

“Agreed.” They both stubbed the butts of their cigarettes and stood up. Bucky shook his legs several times, pins and needles bringing the relief of movement again. “Something doesn’t add up though,” Bucky said as they headed back to the garage.

“What’s that?”

“How come you know Barton?”

“Huh?”

“You said that Barton asked you for this favor. I’m assuming you’re referring to Clint Barton. How come you know him?”

“Oh, well, you know my brother, Terry? He’s been living in the apartment building owned by Barton. Apparently, he’s been babbling his mouth about how his brother owns the best auto shop on the East Coast. Barton asked me about it, said a friend had an accident, and his bike needed some TLC.”

“Terry lives in an apartment building owned by an Avenger?”

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. The Russians used to have some shady dealings around the area, owning a few properties.” Dugan shrugged. “Don’t know much about it but apparently, Barton made them move.”

“Made them move,” Buck repeated, narrowing his eyes. “How one can move the Russian mob?”

“Beats me, but he did it.”

“I guess it’s worth being an Avenger after all. So Barton brought in Rogers’ bike?”

“Yeah.” Dugan scratched at his cheek, his face darkening. “Tell the truth, I feel kind of disappointed. My granddaddy served under him during the war but he never mentioned Rogers being such a hard-ass.”

“I guess you have to be in his line of business.” Bucky’s legs still shook a little but work was calling and he didn’t have the time to sit around and do nothing. “That doesn’t make it right though.”

“It doesn’t.” Dugan slapped his back as they got to Bucky’s station. “I’ll tell Barton to look for a new auto shop for him and his pals. I didn’t think of the consequences at the time, only the gain. And, by the looks of it, we ain’t going to gain much if the threat of impending arrest will always loom over us.”

“Thank you, boss.”

“You know I always got your back, right?”

“Dugan, you raised your voice at both Black Widow and Captain America.” Bucky smiled, warmth curling in his chest. “I know you got my back.”

“Well, what do I always say? Family first.” Dugan squeezed his shoulder in reassurance and then went to his office while Bucky watched him go, his eyes stinging suspiciously. Maybe it was the emotional whiplash of the day, maybe it was the fact that Dugan was like a second father to him, but he still got surprised every once in a while about the genuine way in which Dugan helped him through the years.

Bucky swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. He could feel his carefully set routine slowly unraveling.

✧

That afternoon, as he drove to his second job, he stopped on his way to quickly grab a cup of coffee. He’d need all the supplementary source of energy he could get for the rest of the evening. He had been working at Dernier’s warehouse for about three years now; Jacques Dernier needed a warehouse worker who had a mechanic background but also a welder certification, and since Bucky had both, they agreed on an hourly-contract – he’d work five hours from six until eleven o’clock in the evening on Thursdays and Fridays, whereas on Saturdays, he’d do a morning schedule from eight until two in the afternoon, sometimes a few hours extra if Dernier needed all hands on deck.

Normally, these extra hours wouldn’t count much in the grand scheme of things; however, Dernier’s little company had just won several projects from Stark Industries, all related to renewable energy, and the pay was really good. The supplementary income kept Bucky in a comfortable enough position to even think about repairing that side of their roof, which had been steadily deteriorating throughout the summer storms.

The restlessness of the morning had slipped into his bones though, so, when the barista called out his name, he grabbed the cup with a shaky hand. Once outside, he pulled out his phone and called Becca on his way back to his car.

“Wait a sec!” His sister said in lieu of _hello_. Bucky could hear her exchanging _bye_ ’s and _see you later_ ’s with her colleagues. “Okay, what’s up?” she asked. He could hear her slamming the door of her beat-up Fiesta and sitting more comfortably in the driver seat. Becca had a horror of talking on the phone while driving, so Bucky knew that they had a little bit of time on their hands.

“So something happened today,” his voice came out a little weak and hesitant, suddenly shy to bring into discussion what had just happened. He checked for cars before crossing the street.

“Interesting. Did a boy ask for your number?”

“No, Becca, no boy asked for my number.” Bucky rolled his eyes as a lady passing him by gave him the stink eye. What did she know about nosy sisters that wanted to hitch him all the time?

“Oh.” The disappointment was palpable even across the distance between them. “You know, for a guy who constantly works with other men and whose customers are predominantly male as well, you have no dating life whatsoever.”

“Well, not everyone is into hot mechanics after all,” he replied quickly, mostly joking even though there was an ounce of truth to it. An ex of his had taken an issue with his job, constantly pestering him about striving for more at a time when Bucky was learning for his Welder Certification and taking some extra classes at a community college. Derek had been talking about mechanical engineering classes instead and opening up a business of his own as if Bucky wouldn’t be happy if he was a mechanic for the rest of his life, no matter how many other certifications he might have gotten.

“At least your ego is intact,” Becca’s sarcasm dripped through every word, bringing him back to present. “So then you called me to brag about your good looks or was there a purpose to this conversation?”

“I did say something happened today.”

“But you didn’t mention what and I don’t have my special super-duper Bucky pliers with me to pry out each word as I usually do. So again, what’s up?”

“I met Captain America today. Only he was an asshole.” The words rushed out of his mouth like a landslide.

“You did what now?”

“Becca, volume! Goddamn it!”

“You can’t just throw that at me and expect me to be calm!’ Becca huffed and then asked in a more level tone, “So how the hell did you manage to meet Captain America? And why was he an asshole to you? Bucky, were you rude to him?”

“I wasn’t.” Bucky got inside his car and took a sip of his hot black coffee. “Look, do you remember that Harley that I mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Yeah, the one with the back fender smashed.”

“Yeah. well, this morning I found out that not only does Captain America own the Harley, but he also suspected me of doing someone’s dirty work.”

“What the hell?” Anger made her voice raise a notch. Bucky gave a complete rundown of the discussion he had this morning with the two Avengers, skipping the fact that he had a panic attack. Throughout the whole story, Becca just hummed and said _yes_ in all the right places but other than that, she didn’t say much. When Bucky finished, they lingered in silence for a few moments.

Now that he thought back, the whole incident was rather ironic. Although their parents had died in that attack, the Barnes siblings had never actually blamed the Avengers for not being able to do more. Earth had not seen an attack of such magnitude before, all nations having been caught completely unprepared for such possibilities. The Barnes siblings understood, to an extent, that no matter how superior the superheroes had appeared to be, despite their superpowers or their military training, the Kree attack had stretched them thin and some casualties had been reported amongst them.

Besides, meeting one of them – not to mention two – had a surreal quality. Mostly, the superheroes had always been perceived as abstract images of human resilience and bravery, and although sightings of Iron Man’s golden and red suit were often or sightings of Captain America at a coffee shop in Brooklyn were pretty on the regular, there were still somewhere out there, remote and afar from what was a normal and mundane existence.

“So basically they accused you of working for the enemy and then, when they realized that they were in the wrong, they simply left?” she asked after a while, her voice thick with frustration. “Have they met _you_? Do they know about our parents?”

“Revenge is a pretty good reason for trying to undermine the Captain’s safety, apparently.”

“What the hell? Did he say that to you?”

“Yeah. Well, not him. Widow did.” Bucky put his cup in the cup holder and then leaned forward, resting one arm on the steering wheel. “They didn’t think that I was the bad guy. More like coerced or something.”

“Yeah, like _that_ ’s better.” Becca sighed. “If he was so keen about his safety and whatnot, why didn’t he ask Iron Man to fix his bike?”

“Maybe Stark is too busy shoveling his money or tinkering with that suit of his. Who knows what Avengers get up to in their downtime?” Another moment of silence fell between them.

“How terrible it must be,” Becca murmured after a while.

“What?”

“Just, you know, living in a world like that.” He could almost picture her shrug. “Always looking over your shoulder, never sure of who’s an enemy or who’s a friend. It must be lonely and isolating.”

“He didn’t look lonely or isolated to me.” But even as he uttered the words, something uncomfortable clenched at his chest. That wasn’t true; he closed his eyes and leaned back against the backrest. Steve Rogers had seemed so remote, no emotion on his face other than the pettiness at the end of their conversation. Not to mention that the Widow’s poise was a perfect example of deadly elegance in hindsight.

Bucky opened his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Or maybe he was, I don’t know. But they should have checked better. They’re goddamn professionals, aren’t they?”

“Someone is angry.”

Bucky bit his lip and took a deep breath. “No, I don’t think I’m angry. I think –” He swallowed hard. “I think I was just scared. Still am. Of what might happen to you if they took me. I don’t know.”

“Oh Bucky,” Becca sighed, the unsaid words sticking to Bucky’s chest like greedy leeches.

“Don’t tell the girls about it,” he rushed to add. “I don’t want them to worry more than they already do. Not that there’s anything to worry about.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. They found the guilty party and hopefully, I’ll never get to see their faces again.”

“If you think so.”

“I _know_ so.”

“Okay. Then I’ll let you go because I’ve got to get home and make dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Frozen pizza.”

“Sounds delicious.”

The amused air drifted away like leaves in autumn. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Worry floated across the line.

“I’m already fine. Now I really have to go or I’ll be late.”

“Okay, speak to your tomorrow.”

“Later, sis.”

“See ya later.”

As he drove to the warehouse, he quickly checked on Bunny and Bear, making sure they were okay and they didn’t need anything, then drove for the remainder of the trip in complete silence.

His thoughts kept returning to that morning. He hated the way his mind worked sometimes, the way there were lines flooding his stream of thoughts, things he might have said to Rogers to make him feel bad for his accusations or snarky remarks to Black Widow and how she kept calling him Mr. Barnes.

Yet, mostly, it had been Rogers’ eyes that stuck with Bucky. How those dark blue eyes looked back at him, hard like granite and colder than ice. Was this what seventy years in ice did to a person? Or was it the conflict that insinuated itself in Captain America’s lifetime and time again?

Bucky’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he turned on the industrial estate where Dernier’s warehouse was. _There should be no sympathy for the devil_ , an ugly voice inside of him suggested. Bucky bit the inside of his cheeks. Somehow that didn’t sit well with him.

✧

It was the rain that woke him up on Friday morning. He blinked heavily against the exhaustion creeping through every crevice of his body and mind. He sighed heavily and turned to the side, staring at the alarm clock as if it had personally offended him. 5:37 am. Another twenty-three minutes and he’d have to officially wake up.

He rolled on his back again and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, pressing a little harder than he should. The patter of the rain against the window tempted him to burrow himself under his covers and fall back asleep. The temptation was so sweet on his tongue, so wrapped around his tired mind, that he did just that: pulled the covers tighter around him and closed his eyes. For another twenty-three minutes, the heaviness of his limbs and the dryness of his mouth could be ignored.

Another minute passed then he sighed and pushed the covers aside again – he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep and he’d only make it worse for himself. He looked up at the ceiling and listened to the heaviness of the rain battering the roof, a dull reminder that he should get an estimate soon about its repairs. The familiar heaviness wrapped almost lovingly around his limbs, invading each sinew and fiber with the sort of greedy adoration that only terrible enemies could bring.

He stood up and wiped at his face. There was no point into thinking that he was exhausted – so was Becca, so was Dugan after a heavy night of pouring over the accounts, so were millions of people in the world. Complaining or thinking about it wasn’t going to improve his mood. Sighing again, he trudged to bathroom.

The cold light of the ceiling LED cast the dark shadows beneath his eyes in the gloomiest shades. His five o’clock shadow had slowly descended in what could easily be called now a beard and soon he’d have to decide in between shaving it off or buying beard-care related products. He didn’t know which one was worse. He passed his fingers through his hair, brown, soft-looking tresses curling around his ears and neck. Yeah, that’s all he needed: a haircut, a shave and winning the lottery so he could afford sleeping more than six hours a night and working himself into an early grave.

He snorted as he brushed his teeth, tiny white specks suddenly dotting the immaculate surface of the mirror, and Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes at himself. Thinking about the vicissitudes of life at six o’clock in the goddamn morning was not the best idea. He’d rather think that it was Friday and he had just one day and a half of work and then he’d get to sleep until ten.

He jumped in the shower and washed with perfunctory touches then changed into his work clothes and went downstairs, careful not to make any noise. However, his steps faltered when he noticed that the kitchen lights were already on and Bunny was sitting at the table, staring at the bowl of cereal in front of her. The scent of freshly-brewed coffee permeated the room, so Bucky schooled his features before mumbling a sleepy _G'morning_ and heading straight for the coffee maker.

Bunny flinched a little, muttering a _G’morning_ back. He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he made toast and then poured himself a generous mug of coffee. As Becca was the first one to leave, she always made enough for both of them as they usually were the first to be up. Bunny would rarely touch it and Bear couldn’t bear the taste of it, most of the time sticking to herbal tea or hot chocolate.

Once his toast was ready, he pulled the sliced bacon out of the fridge and dumped everything on the table before bringing his mug with him to sit next to Bunny.

“You okay?” Bucky asked softly.

Bunny shrugged and stirred the soggy cereal. Bucky took a bite of his toast then drowned it in a generous gulp of coffee as he took in the slightly hunched form of his sister. The other day, he was surprised to notice that Bunny had grown some in recent months, now slightly taller than Becca. She kept her hair short, usually styled to the side, to show off the five small earrings on her right ear. Her soft cheeks reminded Bucky of their Ma, generous with her smiles and patient with their tantrums. But the rest of her was all Dad – her eyes, her straight nose, the stubborn line of her jaw. It hurt Bucky to look at her at times. All of them had blue eyes but hers got some sort of icy hue to them that made them look almost grey. In the right light, they’d pierce his very soul.

Bucky bit his bottom lip to keep the questions from falling out. Bunny had always been the type of person to keep her problems close to her chest, looking for the right moment to spill her problems – more often than not, she’d choose moments late in the evenings or first thing in the morning, usually picking Becca. Though this looked more and more like a big brother kind of problem.

“Morgan and I had a fight,” her voice sounded hollow in the quietness of the room. She opened her mouth to add more but no words came out.

“What was it about?” Bucky treaded carefully.

Bunny’s hand tightened on her spoon. She sucked in a shuddering breath. “We’ve made plans about applying to the same colleges. Um, when we discussed it this summer, she mentioned UCLA and I might have said I’d think about it.”

A bitter churning stirred inside Bucky’s stomach. He pushed the toast aside and intertwined his hands on the table. “I thought you were planning on going to Brooklyn College, like Becca,” he said, his voice coming out level and calm.

“Um, I was.” She finally raised her beautiful liquid eyes at him, the fire in them burning bright and perilous. “But there are some good universities out there that I could have access to. I’ve been taking AP classes, my GPA is 3.98, and my portfolio rocks. Not that I’d want to go to UCLA – I told Morgan that when senior year started. But she wouldn’t listen. I thought she understood why I wanted to be close to you guys.”

“But she didn’t.”

“She didn’t.” Bunny nodded and pressed the heels of her palms on her eyes, pulling in a trembling breath. “She doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. Like what the hell? She acts as if they’ve already accepted both of us somewhere, and I declined my place or something.”

“Maybe she’s afraid of change.” Bucky said, gently taking one of her hands and holding it in his, squeezing it softly. “Maybe she thought that discussing it automatically makes it a pact – which of course doesn’t make it right – but now the uncertainty of it must seem daunting to her.”

“I don’t care. She knows how it’s been for us after Mom and Dad.” Her eyes were liquid topaz. “And she knows about our situation. I thought she listened to me when I said I don’t want to move to the West Coast. Not that we could afford it anyway.”

“True, but with your grades and everything, maybe the possibility of a full-ride isn’t completely off base. Are you sure you don’t want to apply to UCLA or Berkley?”

“Yes, Bucky.” She rolled her eyes at him but still squeezed his hand in reassurance. “They don’t have the programs that I want.”

“Then where do you want to go, Bunny?”

“Well, mostly I want to apply to the colleges that we’ve talked about.” She paused and swallowed hard. He could see that she was fearful of his reaction. “But honestly, it would be a tie between the NYSID and Cornell.”

“Cornell?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“At Cornell, interior design is taught through their Design and Environmental Analysis program. It’s basically part of the College of Human Technology.” Her words now tumbled out with voracious rapidity. “I think I stand a chance though, of course, it also depends on what financial aid I can get from them. But I’d be only a few hours away from you by train and –”

“Bunny, breathe!”

His sister took a deep breath as she continued to clutch on his hand as if she was about to drown. Bucky bit his lip, unsure of what to say, so he stalled by taking a sip from his mug. Truth be told, it had crossed his mind that Bunny might try going to a different college. She was brilliant and loved to challenge her mind and she’d always been independent. It even crossed his mind that she might go with Morgan. NYSID wouldn’t be so bad, but Cornell? That was another story altogether.

“Are you mad?” she asked as she peered through her eyelashes at him.

“No, I’m not mad.” Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling tightly. “I mean I wish I would have known about your desire to go to Cornell earlier because even with the money I set aside for your colleges, I don’t think it would be nearly enough for you.”

“I know, believe me, _I know._ That is why I looked into financial aid thoroughly. Becca helped me too. And if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen.” She shrugged. “I mean I really want to go there, it’s definitely something I’m passionate about, but I won’t die if I don’t get admitted or they don’t offer full-ride or something.”

“Wouldn’t be possible to get one of those endowed gifts or scholarships or whatever they’re called?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m _that_ brilliant.” Her wobbly smile broke his heart, the sense of powerlessness poisoning his veins. There were few things Bucky wasn’t able to do for his sisters and one of them was coming up with more money than he’d already tried to set aside.

“I think you are, but you know, that’s just me.”

“You have to say that because you’re my brother. It’s in the contract.”

“Really? Did I sign a contract when I wasn’t aware of it?”

“Yeah, basically when I was born.”

“Then where’s my _but you’re brilliant_ bit?”

“In the _make Thiago your sugar daddy_ addendum.”

“See? Told you you’re smart. Who else would add such big words in the conversation?” Bucky took his hand away so he could give her a hug. “Do you mind if we talk about it this weekend? In the meantime, send me all you’ve got and I’ll have a look, okay?”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hid her face in his chest so he kissed the top of her head.

“And talk to Morgan. Explain to her the reasons why you don’t want to go to the West Coast. Again. Maybe this time more calmly, ‘cause I know you.”

“I did tell her.”

“Well, tell her again. Perhaps use some of those big words you’re so enamored of.”

“Now you’re just showing off.” She leaned back and broke their hug. She wiped her wet cheeks with her hands and scrunched her nose in disgust when she took in the soggy cereal. “I’m gonna need another bowl of cereal.”

“And I’m gonna need to wake up Bear before she decides she wants to spend the day in bed.” He downed the rest of his mug and stood up. “I’ll give you a ride to school today. The weather looks miserable. And stop haunting the kitchen in the morning. You’re giving me the creeps.”

“You’re a creep!”

“Nice comeback, short stuff.”

“I haven’t been short since I was fourteen, moron.”

“Really? Calling your brother a moron at six o’clock in the goddamn morning should be a crime against humanity or something.”

“Go and do your duty as a brother.” She rolled her eyes at him as she pulled out the milk from the fridge.

“I appreciate the love this morning,” he sing-songed as he walked out of the kitchen but his smile dropped as soon as he was out of view. Not matter how worried he was about Bunny’s fight with Morgan, he was ten times more worried about her desire to go to Cornell. The numbers wouldn’t add up, no matter how much they would try this weekend, and he was annoyed with Becca for not giving him a heads up. He’d have to take a look at his financial records and check and see what financial aid she’d be entitled to.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose as he made his way up. It was going to be a complicated and long weekend.

✧

The afternoon sun slipped cunningly through the branches of the chestnut tree outside their house and spilled inside their living-room, painting everything in hues of orange and gold. It caressed the bookcase, filling up a whole wall and the worn couch and armchairs. The coffee table was overflowing with books, magazines, a laptop, a portable sewing kit, pens, and two forgotten mugs. The comfortable mess suited all of them. After all, there was always an order to their messiness.

There was no other moment more enjoyable for Bucky than Saturday afternoons. The prospect of a full day off the next day, not to mention the fact that a hard-working week was behind him, always put him in the best mood. Moreover, as if they’d made a silent pact, it was the one afternoon where the girls usually chose to stay at home and catch up with him, talk about their week, and debate current world issues (their parents had raised socially conscious children after all).

“Your ice cream is melting,” Bear mumbled, without actually raising her eyes from her book. Technically, they shouldn’t have ice cream since dinner was going to be in two hours, but meh, they could live on the wild side of life every once in a while.

Bucky hummed in assent but otherwise, didn’t move from his comfortable position on the couch, the small bowl of ice cream balancing precariously on his chest. He had come home earlier from work, Bunny’s avid eyes watching his every move. He waved her away and took a shower first before making himself a sandwich. Then he sat down on the couch, finally letting Bunny show him the Cornell and NYSID websites, and the info that her counselor had given her for him.

An hour later, a break had been in order and Bear finally offered him the ice cream that she owed him. And now, he was in that beautiful state between sleep and consciousness, gently slipping into oblivion. The general noises of the household – Bunny’s tapping at her laptop, Bear’s rustling pages, and Becca’s music upstairs – lulled him into such a comfortable place he wouldn’t have moved for all the money in the world at that moment.

A knock at the door stirred the gentle revelry in which they were all basking. It sounded hesitant, as if the person outside wasn’t sure whether their intrusion was welcome or not.

“Don’t worry, I’ll answer.” Bunny patted his shoulder and stood up. “I’ve ordered some new threads.”

“Okay.” Bucky closed his eyes again but still listened to his sister’s steps as she made her way to the main door. He should really stand up and start dinner, his chili con carne wasn’t going to cook itself. Maybe he could tempt Bear with extra dessert to give him a hand or something.

He was making a mental inventory of what he needed for dinner when Bunny’s voice made the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

“Um, Bucky,” Bunny was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, “why is Captain America looking for you?”

“What?” Bucky jostled so badly he almost dropped the bowl of ice cream on himself. Bear’s head snapped up, her eyes widened, and she immediately stood up as well, ready to dash out on the hallway. “Bear, don’t!” Bucky snapped so loud that his sister froze mid-step. “Just - both of you, in the living room, now! And don’t come out until I say so.”

His whole body stiffened as his sisters simply nodded and complied, the seriousness of his voice stomping on any quip they might have had. Bucky pulled in a shaky breath and, ignoring the bitter churning in his stomach, he squared his shoulders and headed to the main door, where indeed, Captain Rogers was waiting for him.

Something though – maybe it was just him, but something was off. Bucky stood in the doorway like a human barrier, taking in the man in front of him. For a staggering moment, Bucky wondered whether they changed their minds and came to arrest him after all. The sudden taste of bile at the back of his throat, acrid and hot, made him scowl harder at Captain Rogers, determined not to go down without a fight, super serum power be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His anger and fear made his voice sound so hard it could have crushed stones. “Changed your mind? Came to arrest me after all?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes,” Rogers greeted with the demeanor of a man who had the certainty that he wasn’t welcome and yet had to make a point. “No, I didn’t come to arrest you.”

“Yeah, then what? Came to question me more about technology I have no clue about? Listen, pal, whatever the hell you think I did or didn’t do, I don’t care. I’m telling you I had nothing to do with that transmitter and I –”

“I came to apologize, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky blinked several times, a few seconds necessary for him to actually comprehend what Rogers had just told him. But even after the meaning penetrated the angry fog that had descended over his brain, Bucky still found himself opening his mouth a few times, unable to make any sound.

“What?” He so eloquently put it in the end.

“I came to apologize.” _O-kay_ , that was definitely unexpected. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?”

“You came to apologize,” Bucky repeated, just to make sure he didn’t misunderstand the words. When Rogers’ eyebrow raised ever so slightly, a faint flush flooded Bucky’s cheeks. He crossed his arms and stared down at Rogers, ignoring the burning sensation in his cheekbones.

A smile stretched tightly at the seams of Rogers’ lips. “Yes, I came to apologize. The way we behaved on Thursday was uncalled for. We should have triple-checked the video feeds, perhaps made more inquiries first, before jumping to conclusions. I guess I was just –”

Rogers stopped and looked down and then aside. Fearful that he might be missing some Strike teams waiting in the wings or hiding in Mr. Sullivan’s hedges, Bucky followed his gaze.

It was a quiet afternoon and their street had little traffic at the time. The chestnut trees that adorned their street were still rich in rusted and golden leaves. Bucky took in the relative tranquility of their block – just another ordinary afternoon in Flatbush, Brooklyn – and thought to himself that the mundane quality of it was probably quite far from the rumble and bustling of the Avengers Tower or wherever the hell Captain America resided these days.

Perhaps the only thing that made the discordant note was the Harley Davidson parked in front of their house, though their neighbors weren’t going to pay too much attention to it. A sense of pride filled him seeing it still in good condition. Bucky glanced back at Rogers. He looked – _forlorn_. Was that an adjective that had ever been used to describe Captain America?

Bucky’s initial impression that Steve Rogers was solidly built hadn’t been wrong; on the contrary, the brown leather jacket highlighted his wide shoulders almost in a possessive kind of way, his dark jeans giving the impression he had legs for miles and thighs that could probably choke someone. The blue sweater did nothing to hide the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, tempting any viewer to want to touch. The hard cut of his jaw still emphasized the stubbornness and unyielding nature of its owner, though the fullness of his lips sweetened the otherwise marbled features.

Bucky swallowed hard, unsure about the soft warm feeling uncoiling in the deep recess of his belly. The hard-ass and accusing Rogers from the garage wasn’t the same as the soft-looking and hesitant, almost melancholic, Rogers standing on his porch now determined to ask for forgiveness.

Bucky cleared his voice, drawing Rogers’ attention back to him. “Just to confirm,” he said, “you actually have no plans to arrest me, nor am I any longer a suspect.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“And you caught the right guy after all.”

“Yes.”

“And you came here to apologize for being an idiot punk and promise you’ll never do it again.”

“Yes, something like that.” This time, Rogers’ lips twitched. “Though did anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a jerk?”

“Pot meet kettle.” Bucky pointed back at him. Then he added more seriously, “You do realize that what you and Widow did could have potentially ruined my life, right? Not just mine, actually, my sisters’ as well.”

“Yeah.” Steve shuffled his weight from leg to the other, one of his hands rubbing at his nape. “Why do you think I’m here? It didn’t sit well with me. I’m sorry about that.”

“Well, as long as you’re sorry.” Bucky crossed his arms again and leaned against the doorway. The super-soldier seemed to suddenly find something quite fascinating on the wooden floor of Bucky’s porch and he had to bite his lip because no, he couldn’t find the gesture endearing when the guy had accused him just a couple of days ago of – following him? Doing someone else’s bidding?

Abruptly, Rogers squared his shoulders and stared back at him, his eyes incredibly blue – a sudden flash of a memory popped into Bucky’s kind. He was twelve or thirteen when Dad took him to the Smithsonian, whose galleries about Captain America had made an impression on him. What stuck with him the most though was the image of little Steve Rogers, a reel showing him during one of his first army training, running in full army gear next to his fellow recruits. Bucky had watched, fascinated by Rogers’ stubborn jut of the chin, the muscle in his jaw as he ran after his colleagues, always lagging behind. Yet – yet never giving up. Bucky had watched that reel several times before Dad pulled him away.

But looking at Rogers now, on his porch no less, it was like watching that reel in the flesh. Rogers was standing ramrod straight, his blue eyes ablaze – like facing an enemy on the battlefield or his own flaws in a long-forgotten past – the same stubborn jut of chin.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Rogers said. “I’m sorry for not listening better, for not believing you. Sometimes – there are moments, that is, when being Captain America makes me distrustful of people and duty blinds me to anything else. Not that this is an excuse for wrongfully accusing you. Just - I'm sorry. For what is worth, I truly am sorry, Bucky.”

The sudden flutter inside his chest, pressing softly against his heart, definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Captain Rogers had just called him Bucky. A sort of uncanny delight expanded inside of him and that scared him.

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky replied, his voice hardened. “Only my friends call me Bucky and you’re no friend of mine, pal.” Something akin to hurt fluttered on the Captain’s face before it was immediately gone, his face back to being blank.

“Of course, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t mean to imply that –”

“Oh my God, Bucky, stop being an asshole and accept Captain America’s apologies!”

“What?” Bucky whirled around only to see his sisters at the bottom of the stairs, listening avidly to their conversation without one ounce of shame. In fact, Bucky could almost picture a bowl of popcorn in their laps, determined to assist with the telenovela that his life had suddenly become.

“He apologized,” Bear said, her large brown eyes shy and kind, “and you always say that means being halfway forgiven.”

“I mean, yeah, whatever shitty thing he did,” Bunny added her five cents to the matter, “he admitted he was in the wrong and that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Language, please!” Bucky snapped back, not enjoying the feeling of being cornered by his own sisters one bit.

“What? You say worse things than me!”

“Yeah, but do as I say, not as I do.”

“That sounds kind of hypocritical to me,” Bunny huffed. “I didn’t say he fucked up, did I?”

“You just did!” Bucky threw his hands up.

“It was just an example.” Bunny rolled her eyes at him and seriously, his sisters generally spent too much time rolling their eyes at him. He might have to invest in an optometrist or something. Bunny tilted her head and looked at Steve, adding shyly, “Also, please call him Bucky, Captain. Everyone calls him that, he’s just being stubborn now.”

“Not everyone.” Bucky pouted, blushing harder, his ears burning. He averted his eyes, unable to look back at Rogers, certain that he wasn’t making a great impression.

“True that,” Becca said, coming down the stairs. “Thiago calls you Handsome James, but that’s beside the point.” She took in the whole scene from her vantage point, squinting at them. “Um, why is Captain America on our porch?”

“Came to apologize to Bucky, he said sorry and everything, but Bucky was still mean to him,” Bear answered quickly, before Bucky could even edge one word in between.

“I was not mean!”

“Fine! You were rude. Potato, po-tah-to!”

Becca raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him and this time, Bucky was the one shuffling with one socked foot on the hallway carpet. He had expected some backup at least from her since she was the only one aware of the whole goddamn situation.

“Fine, I was rude. But he was mean first.”

“Wow, the maturity of this conversation is astonishing.” The sarcasm was strong with his sisters this afternoon. Becca stepped beside her sisters and a welcoming smile bloomed on her lips. “Excuse me, Captain Rogers, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh no, thank you. I have prior –” Was it him or was Captain America suddenly blushing?

“He doesn’t want to stay for dinner,” Bucky interrupted quickly because, while he couldn’t hold a grudge against the man, he was still pretty pissed off with him and he didn’t want to share his chili con carne with him.

“Now you’re being plain rude, Bucky. I’m sorry, Captain Rogers.” Becca joined Bucky at the doorway and gestured as an invitation. “Please, come on in! Seriously, please,” Becca insisted when Rogers just switched his weight from one leg to another. She glanced at Bucky, then returned her attention to the Avenger still on their porch. “It’s rude to refuse us at this point. Also, forgive our brother. We struggle with his stubborn grumpiness, but rest assured, he’s more of a grumpy hedgehog than a sour wolf.”

“Excuse me, who do you call grumpy hedgehog?” Bucky elbowed her lightly. “Don’t treat me like a four-year-old, _Rebecca_.”

“Shut it, _James_!” She elbowed him straight back then smiled sunnily at Rogers, who watched the whole change with fascinating amusement. No, Bucky pouted and refused to think that he was utterly adorable. “Captain, please.”

It was almost hilarious the way Rogers nodded once and hesitantly stepped inside the house, brushing past Bucky, who glared at his sisters but still closed the door behind him. An awkward silence descended in the hallway.

“Seriously, how are we related?” Becca hissed at Bucky, elbowing him again – her pointy elbows were a menace – then looked back at Rogers. “Captain Rogers, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Rebecca Barnes, but everyone calls me Becca.” She reached out and shook his hand, then gestured to their sisters. “These are my sisters: Laura or Bunny as we like to call her. And this is Sarah – Bear for friends.”

Grudgingly, Bucky did have to admit that it was hilarious to see his sisters’ hands dwarfed by Rogers’ hand, who, by that point, had slouched so much, he’d almost reached Bucky’s height.

“Please, call me Steve,” Captain America said, the absurd quality of having an Avenger inside his home not escaping Bucky.

“And I think you’ve already met out brother, James, but we all call him Bucky. I mean it, _all of us_.”

“Except for Thiago, who calls him Handsome James.” Bucky didn’t appreciate one bit the gentle teasing smile on Rogers’ full lips. He even ducked his head and peered through his long eyelashes at Bucky.

“Knock it off! He doesn’t call me that,” he insisted and shook Rogers’ hand again. The sensation was almost like a slip into an alternate reality. Captain’s wide hand, calloused and warm, carefully took his and held it gently. Those hands that held so much power, those thick fingers that nimbly manipulated that ridiculous shield and yet Bucky was shaking his hand – all mundane and simple in a way it shouldn’t have been.

When they let go, at last, Bucky looked away, his hands suddenly clammy and shaky. Maybe he was more tired than usual.

“Sorry about Bucky. We promise he usually isn’t so prickly,” Bunny said and gestured to Captain America to follow her in the living room.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. I really just came here to apologize.” Silently, Bear came to take his jacket and hang it at the entrance. Heat burned through Bucky’s veins as he took in the perfect form of Captain’s torso. Fuck it, he really did need to go out more if all of sudden he was slobbering over the man who accused him of working for the enemy not two days ago.

“And apologize you did,” Bear said quickly, quite delighted apparently in having the famous Captain America inside their home.

“But not to you,” Rogers insisted, his shoulders hunched, the corner of his lips crumpled in unhappiness. “And I should. I'm sorry, I was rude and stubborn. I accused your brother of doing something that –”

“Okay, that’s it,” Bunny interrupted him rather rudely, waving dissuasively. “We all said sorry. In fact, there have been far more apologies in this house in the last ten minutes than there have been all year.”

“We appreciate you coming here, trying to make amends, and we accept your apologies. Let’s not talk about it anymore.” Becca gestured for the living room and Bucky followed them, the emotional whiplash of the last half an hour giving him a headache.

Rogers sat awkwardly on the couch that Bucky had just vacated. His sisters immediately took a seat in the adjacent armchairs, leaving him to awkwardly shuffle in the doorway.

“Captain Rogers –”

“Steve, please.”

“Steve,” Becca pressed the name, almost incredulous, “would you like something to drink? We have water, juice, coffee, and Bunny’s teabags, lost in one of the cupboards, that we can surely dig up if you’d like some.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Pal, just pick something,” Bucky snapped at him, vaguely annoyed by the all proper way in which Rogers seemed to retreat in himself. “At this point, when they put their mind to it, you won’t leave without being properly fed. Might as well tell us what you want. Becca here can make a mean hot chocolate if you’d prefer that.”

Steve stared back at him and carefully nodded. “Hot chocolate, please.”

“One hot chocolate coming up.” Becca scowled at Bucky, definitely not appreciating his tone. “Same for you, girls?”

“Yes, please.”

“Perfect. I’ll go and quickly make it. And Bucky here will start on dinner. I hope you’re fine with chili con carne, Cap – um, Steve.”

Becca waited for his careful nod, then she came by Bucky’s side and pulled him out of the room before he could add anything else to the conversation. He could hear Bunny asking Steve something about his sketchbooks that were still kept by the Smithsonian – his family was utterly obsessed with art – and then nothing because Becca pushed him into the kitchen, then turned around and glared at him.

“What the hell, Bucky?”

“What the hell what?” He huffed and went to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for dinner, including the milk for the hot chocolate.

“Why were you so rude to him? He came to apologize. _Captain America_ came to apologize to _you_ , random New Yorker that he accused of something, and you treated him like he killed your favorite dog.”

“What? No, I didn’t. Let’s not forget what he did.”

“I didn’t forget, but he assumed responsibility for his error and you shouldn’t be so rude to him.”

“Fine. I get it, but that doesn’t mean we should have invited him in.”

“Why not?” Becca pulled out the cups from the cupboard and started measuring. “We all said sorry – there were far too many _sorry_ ’s this afternoon – and now we’re going to have reconciliatory dinner.”

“I don’t understand how you can take everything so lightly.” He pulled out the beef mince that he had defrosted earlier and put it in a bowl, then took out the onions and the garlic, deciding on chopping them first. Remembering the sun-dried tomatoes, he huffed all the way to the pantry and back.

Becca put a hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head towards her and relaxed a little when he took in her hesitant smile. “I understand that what happened shook you, but all is well. He admitted to his error, said sorry, and that’s something in my book. It should be in yours too.”

“I know, I just –”

“You just what?”

“I don’t know why, but he pisses me off.”

“Wow, mature, Barnes!” She rolled her eyes and returned to her hot chocolate.

“Shut up, Barnes.”

“That’s pathetic and you know it.” Hot chocolate ready, Becca poured it in the cups and added some cookies she brought in yesterday. “Just put the chili to cook and come back into the living room. Don’t think I forgot you wore Captain America pajamas all freshman year.”

“I did not!” Utter mortification made the blush spread like wildfire all over his face. Fuck genetics and whoever was responsible for his complexion.

“There are photos, Bucky.” She put the cups on a wooden tray, the blue flowers painted on it barely recognizable.

“You glad an evil glow. _Evil_ , I tell you.”

“Don’t quote _Courage The Cowardly Dog_ at me, moron. You don’t need to let Captain America know just how much of a dork you are.”

“He’s not gonna know!”

“He has super-hearing, dumbass!”

“Did you just –? I mean how could you –” Bucky uselessly spluttered, waving his knife around while his sister watched him, completely unimpressed.

“Just don’t burn the food. I’ll go and interrogate Captain America.”

“Hey, where’s my cup?” Bucky asked her retreating back, unsure whether he should focus on the fact that Captain America might have heard _everything_.

“You snooze, you lose.” Becca winked and left him alone in the kitchen.

Bucky returned his attention to the onions. His hand held the knife in a white-knuckled grip. What the hell was his life? The asshole accused him of using high tech on him and now he expected to be fed? Bucky huffed. Yeah, he hadn’t seen _that_ one coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for your hard work in editing this chapter. You saved me again.<3 The remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. :)


	3. In which Bucky's life takes an interesting turn

Awkwardness descended over the dinner table like the inopportune presence of an uninvited guest.

Steve Rogers sat at the other end of the table, hunched shoulders and wide hands playing with the fork. Bucky could feel his sisters’ eyes on him but he stubbornly refused to take his eyes away from his plate. Yeah, he could hold a grudge, sue him. For the last hour, he had been preparing the meal, listening to his sisters literally grilling Captain America like it was nothing. Hydra had nothing on them and Bucky would have been proud, had they not ganged up on him like that as well.

Rogers had come to apologize, Bucky had said _yes, whatever_ basically, and then the guy should have been on his way, not sitting in their kitchen like a guest at the wedding of his ex. He bit his lip hard, his hand tightening on the fork. He didn’t want to play nice. He didn’t.

“So how about them Yankees, eh?” Becca said at last, her leg hitting his none too gently under the table.

“Really, Becca? The Yankees? Maybe Cap here is a Red Sox fan?”

“I don’t see you coming up with a better topic, Bunny.”

“Well, I’d like to know how you got my address.” Bucky stared across the table, his teeth gritted. Rogers sat back and looked at him, a faint embarrassed blush covering his cheekbones. He pressed his lips into a thin smile – the answer was logical. If they had checked him out, then they would have been aware of his whereabouts. Huh, nothing was sacred anymore these days.

The tension filled the room like an unstoppable flood and Bucky’s hand tightened on his fork.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said softly at last.

"You seem to be an awful lot sorry," Bucky replied. Rogers hunched further into himself, shame coloring his pale cheeks. _It doesn’t make it right, pal_ , Bucky thought but didn’t voice his opinion. The deed was done. He returned his attention to the food on his plate – he appreciated the gesture of the apology, _he did_ , but he wanted more from the guy. What? Bucky wasn't sure, so he just paid attention to his food and refused the play nice. He could feel his sisters' eyes on him, the tense silence just as awkward for them.

“Sir,” Bear said in a shy tone, “is it true that you lived at some point in Washington DC?” The question made Bucky look up and watch the man at the other end of the table, who actually looked relieved to receive a normal question.

“Yes, that is true.” Steve’s fork drew an abstract shape in the food. “And please, call me Steve. Just for a year and it didn’t agree with me. So I returned to New York.”

“Do you live in the Stark Tower now?”

“No, I don’t.” Steve bit his lip when he saw the vague disappointment that descended on Bear’s face. She fancied herself an important scientist one day and naturally, Stark was the epitome of the creative scientific genius to her. “I actually live in Brooklyn as well.”

“In Brooklyn?” Becca looked sideways at Bucky but then focused her attention on Rogers. “Where in Brooklyn? That is if you’re allowed to say, of course.”

“Sure, it’s not a secret of state or something. I live in Williamsburg.”

“Oh, nice!”

Rogers nodded but didn’t add anything else and began eating from his plate. For some reason, that unsettled Bucky – he didn’t like to think that he made the man feel bad or uncomfortable. He could almost hear his Ma telling him off, talking about the welcoming nature of the Barnes family and letting bygones be bygones. Well, he didn't have to do anything but, for the sake of his sisters, he decided to be a little more open.

“I thought,” he cleared his voice a little, “I thought that you lived in Manhattan.” Becca’s lips twitched as she pretended to pay attention to her meal as well.

Rogers’ eyes grew a little wider. “No, I’ve always been a Brooklyn boy at heart.”

“Except when you lived in DC.”

“True.”

“Apart from that year in DC, did you always live in Williamsburg?”

“Yes. Um, with the money that I received as backpay, I managed to buy what used to be a warehouse and remodeled it into an apartment.” Rogers shrugged, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. As if he was actually embarrassed that he had had the means to do that. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

“We always lived in Flatbush,” Bunny added as a segue, saving the conversation. “Mom and Dad bought this house in the early nineties, said that as soon as they saw it, they didn’t want to move ever again. Initially, Dad had wanted to move to Manhattan since it would have been easier with his job and everything but apparently, Mom convinced him to move to Brooklyn.”

“Where did they used to live before?”

“Dad came from Indianapolis to study at NYU – I think he planned to move back but met Mom and decided to stay.” Becca looked at him for confirmation, but Bucky could only nod, a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of his parents. “Mom lived in Queens, spent much of her childhood in the foster care system so she really wanted a house of her own. The way she used to talk about it, this house was a dream come true.”

“I can imagine.” A gentle smile stretched on Rogers’ lips. “Before the war, my mom and I were so poor we used to live in a tenement. We always dreamed of having an apartment of our own.”

“She was a nurse, wasn’t she?” At his nod, Bear added excitedly, “Our mom was a nurse too. She used to work for Lenox Hill Hospital. Yours?”

“St. Giles Hospital.” When they looked at him with no hint of recognition, Rogers said, “It was a hospital that cared for children that had severe health issues, mostly related to polio. It closed in the seventies from what I read. My mom thought that it was going to help care for me better. I guess, um, I guess you are familiar with my health issues before the war.” When they all nodded in unison, Rogers’ lips twitched in amusement. “Well, she was an incredible nurse and probably the only reason I lived well past the doctors’ expectations.”

“My name is Sarah as well,” Bear said gently. “Just like your mom.”

“I know. It’s a lovely name.” Steve took a sip from his water. “I meant to ask, you all have interesting nicknames. Is there a story to that?”

“Oh yeah! Basically, it’s all Bear’s fault!” Bunny replied straight away, drawing a laugh from her siblings. “What? It’s true!”

“Oh, thanks for that, Bunny!” Bear rolled her eyes at her sister, then turned her attention to Rogers. “Well, the story goes like this.”

“Here we go,” Bucky mumbled into his plate, though he couldn’t suppress his smile at his sisters’ antics.

“Shut up! It’s all your fault, to begin with anyway. If you didn’t have such a complicated name, this whole thing wouldn’t have started.”

“My name is James, thank you very much. How’s that for complicated?”

“Yeah, don’t try and hide it, _Buchanan_!”

“Your name is James Buchanan?” Rogers asked, the innocent air not fooling Bucky one bit.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up all you want, _Grant_!”

“Buchanan is worse than Grant, Bucky.” As always, Becca lived to keep Bucky grounded.

“Are you going to let me tell the story or not?” Bear huffed and crossed her arms. Becca waved her hand to carry on, so she huffed again before saying, “Yeah, for some reason, Becca couldn’t say James when she was younger so she came up with Bucky. Then because she was named Rebecca, Mom kept calling her Becca and it stuck. And then – um, well, I might have gotten upset one day that they had nicknames that rhymed and we didn’t.”

“More like throwing the temper tantrum of the year,” Bucky mumbled again helpfully.

“I was eight, Bucky, thank you very much.” She glared at him for good measure.

“A very convincing and pig-headed eight-year-old.”

“No one asked for your opinion, Bucky.” She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly. “ _Anyway_ , yes, I might have been upset that we didn’t have nicknames like them, so we decided –”

“– on the silliest nicknames possible.”

“I give up on this family.” She rolled her eyes, a long-suffering sigh escaping from her lips.

“So then why Bear and Bunny?” Rogers asked, seemingly entertained by their theatrics.

“Well, Sarah was going through a sweets phase and she loved gummy-bears,” Bunny answered quickly before the whole discussion could further degenerate. “Still her favorite to this day. And I was going through a _Sailor Moon_ phase, so I called myself Bunny after the main protagonist.”

“ _Sailor Moon_?”

“An anime,” she explained, her mouth full now, “basically, a style of Japanese animation, that can be either hand-drawn or computer-generated. You should check it out.”

Bucky snorted at the thought of Captain America checking out _Sailor Moon_ because a seventeen-year-old had recommended it.

“Shut up, Bucky! We all remember your _Cowboy Bebop_ phase.” Bucky blushed at Bunny’s admonition and almost buried his face in his plate.

“I should add them to the list,” Rogers said.

“The list?”

“Yeah, I have a list. Mostly, it consists of popular culture. I’ll add _Sailor Moon_ and _Cowboy Bebop_ to the list.”

“Oh, then you definitely need to add Miyazaki’s movies. That’s true art!” Bear said excitedly.

“And _Mushishi_. And –”

Bucky kept on smiling as his sisters kept throwing names and titles to Captain America as if they wanted to school him on Japanese animation right then and there. But he appreciated even more Rogers’ patience, the way he seemed to listen carefully – nodding slowly with a furrowed brow – and even pulled out a small notepad to write down the names that the girls kept shouting at him as they also argued about their importance.

“You,” Bucky said at some point when the girls had calmed down a little and had gone back to their dinner, “you must be really tired to be on the receiving end of people's recommendations or people telling you what you missed and whatnot.”

“It’s not so bad.” Rogers shrugged. “I’ve seen or listened to some pretty amazing things. It’s also interesting to see what people think I shouldn’t miss out on.”

“I bet.”

“Did you manage to catch up with the art world?” Becca leaned back against the backrest of her chair, her plate empty. Rogers tilted his head so Becca added, “I’m an art major at Brooklyn College. Last year we had a class on your art and your ties to the art world. Also, I think everyone and their mother has checked out your sketchbooks at Smithsonian.”

“Oh, I wasn’t what you would call an artist.” Rogers shrugged, his meal now finished as well. He drank the rest of his water and when he opened his mouth again, Bucky was sure that what came out wasn’t what he had initially planned to say. “But I’ve been to a few exhibitions, checked the Met, and some other art galleries.”

“Do you paint?” Becca continued to prod but a shadow had fallen now on Rogers’ face. Bucky watched as the man shuffled on his chair, definitely not comfortable with the direction of the conversation. There must have been so many things he had missed out on that it was almost incomprehensible. Seventy years in ice, the world completely changed, everyone learning about him from a history book and everyone pretending to know him. Somehow, it didn’t sit well with Bucky. It didn’t sit well with him at all.

“The reason why Becca is asking,” he said casually, playing with his glass, “is because she and Bunny are passionate about art just like Ma was. While Bear is more interested in science and the way the natural world works.”

“And you like to fix things,” Rogers filled in, his voice gentle.

Bucky ignored his own blush and stood up, gathering his plate. “Yeah, I like to fix things.”

“That’s actually an oversimplification,” Bunny said and stood up to help him. “Bucky is good at fixing things that other people don’t know what to do about. He also works in renewable energy, owns a Welder Certification, and once a customer brought a bike for him to fix all the way from Las Vegas because he heard about his amazing skills.”

“And he’s an awesome cook,” Steve added softly.

“All right, all right,” Bucky said, blushing and bowing his head, “enough with the sweet-talking. I did say you get dessert, you don’t need to keep singing my praises. Rogers here will think I’m some sort of Jack of all trades.”

“Well, you kind of are.” Becca patted his shoulder. “Steve, would you like some ice cream?”

“No, thank you.” Rogers stood up, smiling softly. “I actually have to get going. But thank you for the meal. It was a pleasure trading stories with you.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear in Becca’s voice and his other sisters didn’t seem happy with the sudden turn of events. “Well, it was a pleasure having you over for dinner. You’re welcome to come back anytime.”

“Thank you very much.” Steve bowed his head, blushing slightly.

Bucky’s hands tightened on the plate. “Come on, I’ll walk you out. Girls, can you please take care of the cleanup?” The groans and rolls of eyes in response almost made him laugh. “As far as I am aware, I thought the rule was the cook never cleans up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bunny waved him away. “Thank you for coming, Steve. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too. Thank you for having me.”

“Come on, Rogers. I’ll walk you out.” Bucky intervened, knowing all too well the tendency of his sisters to prolong this as much as they could. They walked out of the kitchen in a chorus of _bye_ and _hope to see you soon_ and _take care_ , which was ridiculous because Captain America was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

Bucky waited for Rogers to grab his leather jacket and then walked him out on the porch, suddenly unsure how to proceed from there. Luckily, it seemed like the Captain didn’t have any qualms related to that and shuffled on his feet as he looked back at Bucky.

“Thank you for having me, Bucky.”

“Sure thing, pal.” Bucky nodded perfunctorily, feeling clumsy, caught wrong-footed somehow.

They both stared away at the cloudless sky darkening by the minute, the sound of the traffic floating to them like auditory ghosts. The chilly wind did nothing to ruin what had been a lovely autumn day.

“It was lovely to meet your sisters,” Rogers murmured, seemingly hesitant and unsure of how he should act next.

“They liked you too.” Bucky bit his lip, unsure of himself. “I hope they didn’t drive you crazy with their questions and comments. Sometimes, they forget that not everyone is so open about their lives like them. And just because yours has been taught in history class, it doesn’t mean it should be free real estate.”

“No, it was no problem at all. They were far less invasive than some of my friends’ questions.”

“I can imagine.” Bucky could feel his lips twitch in amusement. He could almost picture what kind of invasive questions they might have asked. Knowing some of Stark’s exploits, he didn’t need much imagination at all.

“I bet you can.” Rogers smiled in reply and zipped up his jacket. “Thank you for the lovely meal, Bucky. For what is worth, may I say one more time just how sorry I am for everything? Now I understand much better what I almost came to ruin.”

“You’re sorry,” Bucky repeated, and suddenly, whatever feeble compromise they had reached for the afternoon dissipated like steam on a cold day. He hated the way his voice sounded strangled; the fury coursing through his veins made him feel equally entitled to and guilty about it. “Sorry doesn’t make it right and I’m tired of hearing sorry from you.” Steve flinched, his face becoming ashen. An awful silence spread through and around them like a suffocating shroud. Then suddenly words spilled out of Bucky’s lips like a waterfall. “You must have known that an accusation coming from you would carry a lot of weight. That the consequences would be dire for me. I understand that you double-checked everything before coming for me, I do, but the fact remains that you could have cost me everything I hold dear.”

“I know, Buck, I know, that’s why I came here. I didn’t know how to make things right other than apologize in person. I understand that this in no way makes everything better, but I thought I should at least acknowledge my mistake. I acted on the information that I had received at the time – I asked people to double-check it just to be on the safe side.” Steve sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “But you have to understand where I’m coming from as well. Not as a justification or an excuse, but as an explanation.”

"What do you mean?"

"It's happened before."

“Happened before?” Bucky crossed his arms, his stomach churning painfully. “You mean, when you accused the wrong person?”

“No,” Steve said, hurt painfully discernible in his eyes, “when we discovered that people around us – people that we had fully trusted – betrayed us. Whether by coercion, as we thought had happened in your case, or by their own free will. You don’t become Captain America, or an Avenger for that matter, without making a few enemies. Sometimes, those enemies are closer than you think – we had Hydra sleeper agents infiltrated in our midst, we had doctors and nurses that were supposed to take care of us but did the opposite. We had chefs, baristas, gym personnel, even allies that changed allegiance because it no longer suited them to be loyal.”

“So what you are saying is that most of the time experience has proved you right.”

“Yes.” Steve wiped at his face. “Again, I’m not telling you all of this as an excuse. It’s just that when my experience has proven me right time and time again, that this happens all the time and it’s absolutely real, well, it made it easier to believe the intel that we got on you. I asked people to check again, they came back to me that they had and they couldn’t find any other justification for that tracker. So I acted based on that.”

"But it doesn't make it right."

“No, it doesn’t.” Steve shuffled on his feet, an air of mortification around him. “I’m sorry that you were caught up in all this mess.” A faint smile bloomed on his lips. “Most of all, I’m just sorry that I acted like an asshole. I should have listened to you back then.”

“Thank you for explaining this to me.” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure it’s not easy living in your world. But I guess you have just understood how fragile my world is too. Not only because of what happened to my parents, but also because of all the responsibilities that rest on my shoulders. Not that they can compare to –”

Steve interrupted him with a slow movement of his hand. “Our responsibilities might be different but their weight can be just as heavy.” Steve’s hand traveled to his chest, pressing hard against it. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left your workplace. I wish there was a way to take that moment back but there isn’t. All I can do is apologize for it. And for cornering you at home. But I just didn’t feel like I should wait any longer in doing the right thing.”

“It’s okay, Steve – um, I mean, Rogers. I appreciate you coming here and explaining.” His words came out stuttered and hesitant and Bucky blushed again when Rogers’ blue stare seemed to suddenly grow in intensity.

“You can call me Steve, you know?”

“I wouldn’t want to presume.”

“Presume away, Bucky.” Ro – Steve reached out and they shook hands again. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you around.”

“I don’t think we actually run in the same circles, but okay.” Bucky smiled this time and took his hand away, tightening into a fist as if to keep the phantom warmth inside of it.

“True.” He definitely imagined the wistful quality of Steve’s voice. “Well, I’d better get going. See you around, Buck.”

“See ya, Steve.” Rogers stumbled and blushed slightly as he made his way to his bike, and Bucky couldn’t suppress his smirk. He waved once more at the man before he walked back into the house, the starting engine an accompanying soundtrack. He leaned back against the door, closing his eyes and ignoring the trepidation of the afternoon. Then he snorted. Yeah, right, like he was ever going to run into Steve Rogers again.

“So,” Bucky opened his eyes upon hearing Bunny’s voice, “when were you going to tell us that you actually know Captain America?”

 _Oh boy_.

✧

Sunday evening found him alone in the living room, flipping through the channels, unable to find anything. Bucky had always loathed Sunday afternoons – the melancholy of a weekend too short to enjoy, the dread of starting a new week. Like Dad used to say, not even grass grew on Monday. But at least, with Mondays, he knew they were supposed to suck. Sundays always felt so short, an almost blink and you miss it kind of day.

He scratched at his bearded cheek and frowned at the TV screen. It didn’t help the fact that all day, Becca and he poured over financial aid calculators and whatever financial records they could dig up on short notice to try and see the college situation for Bunny. They also made a list of the colleges she would apply to and how much the fees would amount to.

The financial possibilities were really low, and while NYSID appeared to be more of an option, Bucky didn’t want to close the door to Cornell permanently for Bunny. Though it was hardly a decision that he could make for her anyways. While Bunny had appeared to be down to earth and understood that their financial means were meaningless compared to what she might actually require, Bucky could see how much she wanted to attend that program.

He sighed, the powerlessness of the situation daunting to say the least. Had their parents lived, it would have been a completely different perspective. Dad earned relatively well as a lawyer dealing with litigations and corporate financial disputes, but a lot of money went into the house, renovating it and paying the mortgage, plus raising four children with different needs and interests. It hadn’t been easy – that much was certain – but Bucky wished there were more options. The constant worrying about money, financial security, and everything in between consumed him at times.

Bucky changed the channel again, staring blankly at this screen when the names tossed by the reporter made him blink several times so he could focus.

“The goal of the event is to raise funds for two major children hospitals,” the reporter said in the background as images from the Stark gala rolled on the screen. “The donations would be used to cover medical expenses for families in need and fund the acquisition of medical devices such as MRI machines and life-support systems.”

Bucky watched in fascination as Tony Stark made an appearance on the red carpet, Ms. Potts at his arm. He huffed, _ah to be rich and famous_ , and went to change the channel when Captain Rogers suddenly appeared on the screen.

The reporter kept saying something about the man but Bucky couldn’t concentrate on that for the life of him. He took in the tense form of Rogers – _Steve, please call me Steve_ , he had said – and bit the inside of his cheek. Yeah, he had noticed before that Captain America was handsome in the sort of vague way one did with people they were sure they were never going to meet. When they learned about him during History classes, Bucky had paid attention because he wanted to have a good GPA, but that was all. When Rogers had been defrosted – thawed, de-iced? – and stepped back in the public eye, Bucky had been too preoccupied by his future to care much about the Avenger. Yeah, his life was fascinating and all, and he had saved New York from aliens, Bucky was glad to give him credit for that.

He sighed. Back in the day, they had really thought that it was going to be a singular attack, that the presence of the Avengers – they had a goddamn god amongst them – would deter any further attacks. They had been wrong, _so wrong_.

Bucky leaned forward and stared at the screen as Steve talked about something. There was a disconcerting sort of blankness about him, the clenched jaw underlining how much he was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Looking at him now, there was no trace of the Steve that had come to his house yesterday and asked for forgiveness. But the Steve that had accused him of working for someone? Oh, yeah, he was all there – his handsome features carved in stone, even the posture was that of a man who was still not used to being at the forefront of national interest.

Then Natasha Romanov carefully slipped into the conversation – where had she come from? – and Rogers took a step back, allowing her to steal the limelight. But not even stepping back in the background or the beautiful dark blue jacket could conceal the straight line of his shoulders. One would have thought that having done a couple of events like this, Rogers would have been used to all this attention by now.

Bucky wiped at his face and switched off the TV. Mulling over what he had just seen on TV, he checked the rest of the house, making sure that everything was closed or switched off before heading upstairs. As if his opinions mattered – he was sure that yesterday had been the last time he’d see the Captain.

He had more pressing matters to worry about than Steve Rogers anyways.

✧

By Wednesday the following week, Bucky could almost fool himself into believing that Steve’s visit at their house had been a dream. The routine of his days settled back into place and he returned to work, determined not to think any more about Avengers and silly captains that apologized for stuff. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his colleagues other than Dugan about what had happened during the weekend and he wanted to keep it that way. But then again, he should have known better.

“What are you doing?” Darrell asked him on Tuesday at lunchtime when he caught Bucky reading while trying to have his lunch in the common room. Darrell Williams was five years Bucky’s senior and one of the most astute people he’d ever had the chance to meet. Also, his hands could perform miracles even with the most stubborn Ford engines. He was basically a wizard when it came to them.

“Reading in solidarity.”

“Reading in solidarity?” Darrell repeated as he took out his own lunch and put it in the microwave to heat it up.

“Bear is studying _The Tell-Tale Heart_ by Poe for the English class and I read it with her in solidarity to encourage her to finish it. She hated it but managed to get through it.” Bucky put the book down and turned the page before picking it up again. “Only then I got caught in Poe’s stories and now I’m reading the whole goddamn volume.”

“Oh yeah! Creepy stories, man!” Darrell took out his casserole and sat opposite Bucky. “My brother made me read _The Pit and the Pendulum_ and one more, _The Murders of –_ shit, I forgot. Something French.”

“ _The Murders in the Rue Morgue_.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Like I said, creepy stuff.” Darrell took a bite and waved his fork around. “Loved them though.”

“Your brother likes Poe?”

“Poe, Stephen King, Harlan Ellison – you name it, he read it.” Darrell’s almond eyes shined with pride. “He’s really good, man. He wants to be an English teacher. Or a writer. He hasn’t decided yet.”

“That’s awesome. I might have to check out that Harlan Ellison guy. Read a few books by King. _Salem’s Lot_ stuck with me for months.” Bucky shuddered, remembering how difficult it had been to shake the dread coming onto him at night after reading that book. A horror of small and isolated towns stuck with him after that. He was definitely not going to move to some god-forsaken place with an abandoned manor, that was sure.

“Yeah, he recommended me a novel of his, can’t remember the title but I abandoned it. Couldn’t deal with that shit.”

“I know what you mean.”

“How you doing, guys?” Gabe interrupted them as he entered the common room, a smile on his lips.

“Talking about literature.” Darrell’s sharp grin made Gabe chuckle.

“Well, well, well, and here I was, thinking we might gossip about the impromptu visit Bucky had from Captain America the other day, but sure, carry on talking about books.” He winked at Bucky, who groaned when Darrell’s eyebrows went high.

“What the hell? You did what now? How come I’m always the last one finding out shit in this place?”

“Because there’s nothing to say about it.” If Bucky had been able to bury his face into his plate, he would have gladly done so, especially when Gabe sat beside Darrell with a Cheshire smile on his face. “Remember that Harley with the back trashed?” Bucky dished out when it was clear that Darrell wouldn’t let him go without knowing the whole goddamn story. “It belonged to him. Dugan’s brother had blabbed his mouth to his landlord who somehow got word to Cap about our auto shop and he brought it in. He came back for some questions but nothing more.”

“Only you, brother. Only you.” Darrell shook his hand as he shoved a mouthful of food into his mouth.

“Please, it’s not like we’re going to see the man’s face around here again. I’m sure he has better places to be.”

“Dugan said something about him accusing you of putting a tracker device on the bike,” Gabe added helpfully. Bucky scowled at him as he began playing with his food. It didn’t sit well with him to know that Dugan mentioned something to the guys about the whole debacle.

“What the hell?” Darrell’s indignation made him feel better about it though.

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Bucky waved dismissively, a few drops of tomato sauce falling onto the table. “But the guy apologized for that, which was unexpected to say the least.”

“He apologized,” Gabe echoed his words, digging into his rice and chicken. “When the hell did he do that?”

“He came by on Saturday.” Bucky could feel the tips of his ears suddenly burning in embarrassment.

“Captain America came by to say _sorry to drag you into my own shit_?” Darrell stabbed the meatball in his casserole. “Well, he damn well should. Have they met you? Seriously, brother, it feels like one can’t even take a dump these days without being involved in some Avengers shit or something.”

“Excuse me? That’s all you got from the whole thing?”

Confusion made Darrell blink several times in quick succession. “Yeah, what else should I have gotten from the whole thing?”

“The fact that he came by on Saturday.” Gabe squinted at the both of them. “That means he came by Bucky’s place. How the fuck did he know your address?”

“Well, since apparently, he checked me out, I’m sure my address wasn’t a state secret.” Bucky raised his hand to stop Gabe from going on and on about the whole thing. “I know what you mean. _I know_. It wasn’t right and the whole idea didn’t sit well with me either. But he did apologize for both things, he acknowledged that what he did was wrong. I seriously just want to put the whole thing behind me so can we just drop it?”

Gabe opened his mouth several times, seemingly decided to add more to the whole conversation, but, in the end, he just shook his head and went back to his food. Living in a world like theirs, with more and more super-powered beings and security systems rearing their heads every day, desensitized them on a lot of issues – seeing them perform their heroics in public, always being involved in one debate or another, leaking a lot of uncomfortable information online (like that time when they discovered Hydra sleeper cells). Living in a post-Avengers world meant at times dealing with uncomfortable things over which they had no power whatsoever.

“Well, you did say that the girls were looking for a sugar daddy for you.” Darrell leered, breaking up the sharp awkwardness. “Steve Rogers could be the epitome of that for sure.”

“Jesus Christ! Can we not use Captain America and sugar daddy in the same sentence?” Bucky groaned and wiped at his face.

“Yeah, Darrell, show some respect.” Gabe winked. “Technically, the guy’s what? Thirty-one? Thirty-two? He can’t be a sugar daddy.”

“Technically, he’s one hundred and two so for sure he can.”

“He spent seventy years in ice. That don’t matter. He’s thirty-two in the layman’s eyes.”

“I don’t think the whole sugar daddy thing rests solely on the age difference though.” Darrell shrugged. “Wait a minute, actually, what exactly would a sugar daddy entail?”

“Not that I’m not happy to see you two chuckleheads going on and on about this shit, but seriously, cut it out.” They laughed uproariously and he just shook his head at them. Then he leaned back against the chair and looked at his friends. “By the way, I’d appreciate it if people don’t get wind of this. It was just an incident and I don’t think it would look good for us nor for Cap. I appreciate that he came and said sorry or whatever. The whole thing is behind both of us now and I’m sure that we won’t get to see the guy again.”

His friends nodded back to him. They understood discretion. Gabe smiled reassuringly. “Of course, Bucky. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“But you know we got your back, right?” Darrell’s eyes were hard as flint when Bucky stared back at him. “Captain America or not, it’s not right to make this sort of accusation towards people that could do little to defend themselves.”

“Thank you, guys, I appreciate it.”

“We got your back, brother.” Darrell patted him on the shoulder then leaned back. “That being said, of course, we’re going to give you crap about him. I’m not gonna miss such a golden opportunity.”

“Wow! Thanks, a lot, pal.”

“What are friends for after all?”

“You guys are insane. Can we go back to discussing Stephen King and forget about this debacle?”

“Not a chance in hell!”

Bucky groaned and hid his face behind his hands as his friends laughed. And for the rest of the lunch break, that’s what they did, the assholes.

“Hey, Gabe,” he said later as they washed their casseroles. “Do you know anyone that could help me out with my roof?”

Gabe winced as he wiped his hands on some paper towels. “Damn, you think it’s leaking?”

“Not sure. I checked it out yesterday again but can’t figure out where the problem is. I need professional help at this point before winter comes, otherwise, I’ll be screwed for sure.”

“I know a guy. He’s Andy’s best friend. Heard he’s pretty good at what he does.”

“Andy?”

“My brother-in-law? You met him this year for the Fourth of July party.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, completely forgot.” Bucky put his things away. “Do you think he’ll give you the guy’s contact details? I need to get an appraisal as soon as possible. The quicker I find out what the real damage is, the better I’ll be able to plan it out.”

“And have a heart attack when you find out the cost.”

“And that.”

Gabe chuckled and patted him on the back. “Sure thing, Bucky. I’ll speak to Andy this afternoon and I’ll text you the details, okay?”

“Thanks. You’re a pal.”

Darrell wrapped his giant arms around both of them. “Let’s get back to work, brothers, before Dugan decides that firing us isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

“That or Ben is going to chase us with a crowbar or something since he held the fort for so long and didn’t get his lunch yet.”

“Better get going then.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Bucky leads an interesting life.” Gabe smirked when he only rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up now while you can.”

✧

By Saturday, Bucky had managed not only to speak with the roofing contractor but also to arrange an appointment for an appraisal for Saturday afternoon, which was why he was currently watching the guy checking out the roof on the inside.

When the home roof professional arrived – _Call me Luke, no one calls me Mr. Remini_ – he began his work by doing a thorough roof inspection on the outside, checking everything meticulously. Then he moved to the inside and began examining the boards in the attic to determine, as he explained, whether moisture made its way through the decking, affecting its integrity.

Bucky fully respected people’s professions, since he was all too familiar with the annoyance of being constantly on the receiving end of what people called advice or suggestions but was really just consistently wanting to be right and showing off. These days, he needed iron-clad patience to deal with the customers who acted as if they knew better.

“So what’s the damage?” Bucky asked at last when Luke took a break to write down some numbers.

“Well, it’s not as bad as I feared.” Luke smiled, looking up through his eyelashes. His whole stance relaxed despite the relatively cramped place. “Luckily, the underlayment isn’t affected, which is a good thing. I wanted to make sure that the integrity of your roof isn’t affected because, believe me, patching it up uselessly would actually damage your roof even more.”

“What do you think I should do then?”

“Well, the area affected is in an inconspicuous section of the roof so you can get away with replacing the shingles. The affected section is relatively small and we will get away with it, without affecting the quality or the sustainability of the roof.”

“But in the long run?” Bucky sighed as he crossed his arms.

Luke winced sympathetically. “Yeah, in the long run, I think you should replace the whole roof. Patching it over and over again would actually damage it more and not improve its condition as some people might think. Plus, you’d then have different life spans for different sections of the roof, which again is not good. I’d suggest seriously considering replacing your whole roof next year.”

“How much would that cost?”

“Well, with your roof, depending on what kind of materials you choose – though I’d still go with asphalt shingles because they have a really long life span – anywhere between five to eight thousand dollars.”

Bucky nodded, the sum making him sick. Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to think about that – next year already sounded like it was going to kick his ass.

“What about this patching?”

“Let me inspect the area one more time to ensure I got it right and then I’ll get down and we’ll have a look, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Half an hour later, they discussed costs, materials and manual labor and how long it would take. Luke was a no-nonsense kind of guy, straight to the point – he explained the options in a clear and concise manner, plus the price he offered sounded more than fair. By the end of the appointment, Bucky was a little less panicky and had already established another appointment for next Saturday to take care of the whole problem.

Bucky would have to speak with Dernier on Thursday to ask for that Saturday off. “You sure you don’t want more coffee?” he asked as they stood up and he walked Luke to the door. They were both of similar height, though Luke was better built with wider shoulders and thicker thighs. And no, Bucky clearly didn’t want to think about that.

Luke’s green eyes crinkled adorably. “No, thank you. You were my last appointment of the day and it’s time I headed home.”

“Sorry about that.” Bucky winced. “Unfortunately, I usually work the first part of the day, that’s why I couldn’t make it earlier.”

“No, please, don’t worry about it.” Luke waved his hand dissuasively. “We’re both working men. I know how that goes.” They shook hands one last time. Hmm, was it just him or did this one last a little more than it normally should?

Bucky swallowed hard, trying to hide his slight flush. “So, I will see you next Saturday then. Eight o’clock?”

“On the dot.”

“Okay. I’ll have the coffee ready.”

Luke smiled again, his red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Great! Well, I’d better get going. See you next Saturday, Bucky.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

He closed the door after him, determined not to check the guy out.

“Oh Bucky.”

He swung around to Bunny, who was leaning against the doorway of the living room. “What?”

“No wonder you are single.”

“What?” Yeah, he was aware of the fact that at this point he just sounded dumb, but he seriously didn’t understand what his sister was trying to tell him. “Honestly, I have no clue what you’re talking about, Bunny.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Oblivious. You keep telling yourself that.” And with that parting jab, she went back to the living room, leaving him alone in the hallway. Seriously, had everyone gone insane all of a sudden?

✧

Then, on Monday afternoon, Dugan stopped them for a short meeting after work. Everyone grumbled playfully, citing _we all have our lives, old man_ and _no, I don’t think I can fit you in my calendar_ , but they gathered around the small conference room they had at the back of the shop next to his office. Bucky quickly took his phone out and began making a shopping list, as they were falling short on some stuff at home.

Darrell elbowed him to pay attention when Dugan cleared his voice and clapped his hands excitedly.

“Okay, as you all know, gentlemen and lady,” and he quickly smiled to Shala, their receptionist and, frankly, their guardian angel, “Halloween will arrive in a few weeks’ time.” Everybody released a mighty groan, the collective frustration overwhelming.

“Come on, boss!” Ben said, his white hair offering him enough seniority to complain the loudest. “It’s literally one month away.”

“That don’t matter.” Dugan waved his hand as if he was scaring off some fly. “We need to be prepared. The children of this neighborhood are expecting fine services from our part.”

“You mean, candies and chocolates to make their parents mad.”

“Thank you, Darrell, for your helpful contribution.” Dugan scowled at them all. “But yes, that too. You know there is also the party at my house, and no, I don’t want any of you to shirk your responsibilities. _Everyone_ will show up this year and _everyone_ will get a costume. And yes, that means you too, Ben.”

“Can we still bring a plus one?” Gabe asked, his leg juggling.

“Yes, you can. Or in Bucky’s case, plus three.”

“Teacher’s pet!” Darrell coughed playfully so Bucky elbowed him in retaliation. However, he knew better than to argue with their boss about Halloween – Timothy Dugan was the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd on this earth and, by far, his favorite holiday was Halloween. Moreover, the parties that he usually threw this time of the year were really good, going fully out on decoration and booze. Also, Patricia, his wife, had the patience of a saint and just let him have his crazy ideas.

“Do we have to wear a costume?” Ben whined, outrageously for a man his age. Bucky smiled when he noticed the answering smirk on Darrell’s face; yeah, Ben did this every goddamn year only to always be the most enthusiastic of them once the time of the party approached.

“Yes, you do. Do I have to repeat myself every single time?” Dugan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I checked the decorations for the shop – Shala, I think we might need to order some more because some of them aren’t in good shape. Maybe add to the list a couple of those plastic pumpkins that glow from the inside.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Okay, that’s it. I wanted to make the announcement earlier this year so I don’t hear anyone complaining. None of you get to miss the party this time around, got that?” He took the few nods and groans in assent then nodded, satisfied, to himself. “Okay then. Get the hell out of here! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They all left with a chorus of _bye_ ’s and _see you tomorrow_ ’s. Bucky hurried to his car, wanting to drive away before the whole evening rush began because he needed to pick up some things and it was his turn to cook. And the chicken frittata wasn’t going to make itself.

As soon as he parked his car in front of Trader Joe’s, he checked the list one more time before grabbing a cart and making his way into the shop, relieved to see that it wasn’t too manic for a Monday afternoon. Efficiently, he grabbed everything he needed in fifteen minutes tops, then made his way to the cashiers.

His phone rang while he was in line waiting to pay for his shopping and get the hell out of there.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Dugan’s voice came out curt.

“Um, at Trader Joe’s?”

“What the hell are you doing at Trader Joe’s?’

“I’m shopping for food. What the hell else would I be doing at Trader Joe’s? Honestly, boss, is there a point to this conversation or did you just call to berate me for going food shopping after work in my own time off, I might add?” Dugan sighed and Bucky could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm down. From what? He had no goddamn clue. “Tim, are you okay?” Bucky asked, tone calm and warm.

“I need you to come back to work.”

“Boss, come on! I just left – what? Forty minutes ago? If someone brought their bike, they can –”

“Steve is here.”

Bucky blinked several times in confusion. “Steve who?”

“Steve Rogers. He wants to speak with you.”

“What?”

Dugan lowered his voice, though how that would help with a guy that had super-hearing or something, Bucky had no clue. “Rogers showed up just as I was locking up the place and asked whether you left. He doesn’t look good, Bucky. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“He doesn't look good?” Bucky winced when he heard himself repeating stuff back to Dugan but surely, this was unprecedented.

“No, he doesn't.” Dugan cleared his voice and said, “I think – I think he needs a friend.”

“A friend?’

“He doesn’t look good, Bucky. I think something happened to him.” Dugan lowered his voice even more to the point he was actually whispering into the receiver. “When I told him that you went home for the day, he just sighed and literally sat down on the curb.”

“What the hell?” Bucky’s hand tightened on the phone, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He swallowed hard, the decision taken almost before even thinking about it. “Okay. Tell him I’ll be there in twenty.”

The temptation of simply abandoning his shopping and driving back to work at full speed was agonizingly sweet on his tongue. Yet, they still had to eat and whatever happened to Steve, it was clear that the urgency of it had passed. His hands tightened on the rails of his shopping cart as he waited for the lady in front of him to finish paying for her shopping.

He clenched his teeth and took a breath. The urgency of reaching Steve Rogers, as quickly as he could, was disconcerting, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever indebted to [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for her awesome work as a beta. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. :)


	4. In which Bucky makes a friend

How many times could Atlas carry the world before he was crushed by the unbearable burden? How many times could those shoulders support the vicissitudes and the horrendous burdens of the world before they too would hunch and tremble and break? As Bucky took in the dejected form of Steve Rogers, sitting on the curb of an auto shop in Brooklyn, head resting in his hands and staring into nothingness, he was struck by the wrongness of the image.

He bit his lip, taking a few hesitant steps towards the hunched form. When they were younger, he and Becca used to leaf through Ma’s albums – well, Becca would leaf through them and would make Bucky listen to her as she talked about brushes and colors and strokes. What stuck in his mind was one painting by Rubens called _Atlas Supporting the Heavens_. It was such a vivid image of a man carrying the burden of the world, so much so in fact that Bucky’s heart almost broke at the thought that someone could be punished so viciously. It had sounded stupid at the time and it sounded stupid now too. Yet – yet as he took in Steve’s shrugged form, the vividness of such a comparison didn’t seem far-fetched after all.

Dugan watched them both from afar and Bucky waved at him reassuringly. There was no point in staying. He’d brief his boss the following day if such a thing was possible but for now, Bucky understood that this was a situation requiring his presence alone. Dugan showed a thumb up and went to his car, while Bucky took in the fact that, all of a sudden, he was all alone with Steve Rogers in the parking lot of his auto shop.

He pulled in a shuddering breath and sat next to Steve, close enough to offer support but not too close to feel like he was looming (how does one loom over Captain America, Bucky didn’t know but he wished to avoid that). Steve raised his head a little and looked sideways at Bucky.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky said, keeping his voice level.

“Hey, Buck.”

“How are ya?”

“I’ve been better.” Steve shrugged and took his hands away. “I’m sorry, Buck. I shouldn’t have come here. I just didn’t know where else to go.” A thin, jagged smile broke over Steve’s lips. “Ever since I met you, I seem to only apologize to you.”

Bucky shrugged. “There was also some accusing done that one time.” He winked, trying for humor but failing miserably. “You’re not so bad,” he added, sobering up. He took in Steve, the sense of exhaustion that seemed to permeate every muscle in his body, every sinew that kept him together. “I don’t know how much I can help with whatever happened, but if there is any way I can – well, you can just tell me.”

Steve ran his fingers through his short hair, his shoulders hunching further. “I just couldn’t deal with anyone who – well, who’s in this.”

“This?”

“Avengers stuff.”

“Ah, superhero stuff.” Bucky bit his bottom lip. “Bad mission?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Steve looked at his hands, thick and calloused fingers twitching as if reaching for the shield. “No matter how hard I try to save people, to do good by them, there is always someone I fail. This mission – we’d received previous intel about it – but it was too late. By the time we got there, well, let’s just say we were pretty useless.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Probably not.” Steve shrugged and wiped at his face. “I just – we’ve done our best today but it wasn’t enough, and I’m not sure how to deal with that anymore.”

Bucky sighed. “Look, Steve, I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you this, but you can’t save everybody. I’m sure you’ve tried, I’m sure that if you were able to do so, you would. But you’re not a god. And even if you were, well, look at the one we have in our midst: he isn’t infallible and he lives in New York with his scientist girlfriend.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked at Steve when the other man remained silent and dejected.

“Maybe it’s not about saving everyone,” Bucky spoke hesitantly, “maybe it’s just about doing your best. Doing your best for the others, but also doing your best by yourself. Ever since you were – um, ever since you came back, you’ve always been fighting for us. I think – I think the fact that you have never stopped fighting for us says a lot about you.”

Steve kept his eyes downcast and when he spoke, Bucky could barely hear him. “How come you don’t blame the Avengers for what happened in the Kree invasion? Your parents died because of that, you almost lost your sisters.”

Bucky shrugged and rubbed his chin. “Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind once or twice. But there was so much suffering back then, there were so many things to do, and my sisters needed to be looked after that I didn’t even have the time to process what the hell had just happened. Much less to blame the Avengers for our loss.”

Steve ran his fingers through his short hair then pulled hard. “Today – today I stood there, in that building, and wondered what was the point of us. Of me.”

Upon hearing those words, Bucky’s hand almost involuntarily found its way to Steve’s shoulder, squeezing the hunched muscle in reassurance. There was nothing much he could say on the subject matter – the responsibilities that Steve carried on his shoulders were vast and incomprehensible to a guy that could only be responsible for his sisters and himself. Logically, he could comprehend the problem in Steve’s current situation, in part due to the responsibilities that had been thrust upon him when he was only twenty-three. But practically? There were dimensions and conundrums that Bucky would never face in his lifetime. Something that he was currently utterly grateful for.

He cleared his throat and watched his own hands, knuckles scraped, calloused, and one cut on his right pointer finger from the bike he repaired that morning. Working-class hands. He peeked at Steve’s hands. No blemish on them, strong and thick, and able to rip a man apart. Superhero hands. He snorted quietly and scrubbed at his face in an attempt to dissipate such useless ruminations.

“I – um, I was wondering… Have you ever sought professional help with this?” Bucky swallowed hard when Steve looked up sharply at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an expert in such things anyway. But I’m sure that someone in SHIELD or something could recommend you a professional. If not to vent to them, at least to give you some strategies to cope with stuff like this.”

“I’m not sure whether I’d trust someone like that.”

“I think it’s worth a shot. When our parents died, we all had someone to talk to. Hell, the girls still attend counseling hours at their high school and they’ve learned some great stuff about their emotional well-being.” Bucky shrugged, sudden embarrassment burning bitterly inside of him, afraid he overstepped. “It’s just that – you know, it’s good to have friends to talk to and I’d be happy to be such a friend to you. But there are also things that I could never comprehend or give you advice about. And a professional could step in.”

“It was suggested before.” Steve looked away. “Sam, one of my best friends, works at VA and recommended me a few people that might be able to help.”

“Yeah, well, since he recommended a few people, I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about. I think you should try it sometime, see how it goes.” Bucky scratched at his unshaven cheek. “What – um, what do you usually do when you get like this?”

Maybe the question had come out of the left-field because it took a while for Steve to answer. “I go a few rounds with the boxing bag. I paint, I try to read. Sometimes, I spar or discuss it with Nat or Sam. But they have lives of their own and enough trouble to think about as it is.”

“I see. But you came to me tonight.”

“You’ve been the first man in a long time with no deference to who I am.” Steve smiled wryly. “And then you welcomed me into your home, reluctant as you might have been in the beginning, and you shared a meal with me. I don’t know why I thought of you the minute I returned from this failure of a mission but that was what happened. Only I didn’t want to ambush you at home again.”

“So you came to my workplace.”

“So I came to your workplace. I’m sorry if I crossed a line here, Buck.”

“A line?” Bucky patted his shoulder. “Pal, you crossed it the minute you stepped on my porch. This is actually an improvement.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s done is done.” Bucky looked away. “Come home with me tonight.” The invitation left his lips, taking even him by surprise. The super soldier beside him was definitely astonished and seriously, Bucky had no inclination to acknowledge that this was coming so out of the left-field even for him.

“What?” Steve’s baby blues had widened.

“Come home with me tonight,” he said, his words shifting into a little more assured invitation. “Let’s eat pizza and watch a crappy movie and forget about the world’s troubles this evening. What do you say?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Steve furrowed his brow. “I think you and your sisters have a lot on your plate right now to need another person at –”

“Yeah, enough of that.” Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder. “Come on, there’s no point in going home, being by yourself, when you could be with us, filling your belly with cheap pizza, and probably watching a cheap movie as well.”

“Buck, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t sure,” Bucky lied like the liar that he was. He shrugged and then stood up. He groaned as he put his hands on his lower back and straightened up. “Okay, seriously, this hurts. You sure you don’t have some super serum laying around for back pain and slammed fingers?” He winked at Steve. “Come on, pal, no time to waste here.”

“Are you sure the girls won’t mind?”

“You did hear the last time you were over dinner that they’d love to have you back again, right? You were there after all.”

“Okay, okay, enough with the sarcasm. I’ll come, I’ll come.”

“Well, don’t sound like you’re doing me any favors.” But Bucky smiled as he offered his hand to the silly super-soldier who had sat on that curb like the saddest reenactment of Atlas shrugged. “I’m warning you right now that you are going to have to eat at least two pizzas, drink your orange juice, and not comment on the crappy movie we will watch.” He heaved him up, their hands clasped tight and for a moment the world seemed narrowed down to that single point of contact. Bucky swallowed hard and took his hand away. “Come on, let’s go! Time’s a-wasting.”

Bucky nodded to his car, parked not far from where they’d been talking. As they headed there, he pulled out his phone and called Bunny because he knew that Becca had late classes on Wednesdays.

“Yo! What’s up?” she answered as she munched on something.

“I need you to order some pizza.”

“Pizza? Weren’t you supposed to cook chicken frittata tonight? We specifically made a list for it two days ago.”

“Well, plans changed.”

“Are you shunning away your responsibilities as the designated cook, Bucky?” Bunny pressed on as humor colored every word. “Aren’t you tired of frozen pizza?”

In the beginning, when all hell broke loose in their lives, the routine of their lives, the consistency of it, had shattered completely and the meal times had been one of the first casualties. After the funeral, their fridge had been filled with casseroles and frozen pizza, and that was all they had eaten for about two months afterwards. Hence the running joke that they hated frozen pizza, although it had literally saved them at the time.

“That’s why I actually told you to order some pizza instead of taking out some from the freezer. Also, we have a guest.”

“A guest? Who?”

“Steve.”

“Steve who?” Bunny pestered him with futile questions, and Bucky seriously had to grit his teeth because said Steve was sitting beside him in his car at this point and thoroughly enjoying the conversation by the looks of it.

“Steve Rogers.”

“ _Steve Rogers is coming to dinner?_ ” Bear’s squeal was explosive even across the line. “Jesus, Bear!” Bunny grunted, though her voice sounded a bit far off. “Keep the volume down!” Bear said something that Bucky couldn’t make out but Bunny’s annoyed huff was enough of an answer. When his sister returned to their conversation, she seemed amused though. “Steve Rogers is coming for dinner at our house?”

“Yes.”

An awkward moment of silence. Then, “Okay, sure. Why not? It’s not like this doesn’t happen every day. So should I order the usual?’

“Yeah. There’s some cash in the envelope basket in case it arrives before me.”

“Okay. What about Steve? What kind of pizza should I order for him?”

“I don’t know, let me ask him.” Bucky turned to Steve who politely pretended that he wasn’t listening to their conversation. He should try and hide between the slight twitch of his lips then, the bastard. “What kind of pizza do you like?” he asked, grumpily.

“Any, as long as it doesn’t have anchovies or pineapple on it.”

“Got it. Heard that, Bunny?”

“Loud and clear.” Bunny’s grin was audible across the line. “I almost want to make you ask him how many we should order for him but I’ll just double the order to be on the safe side.”

“You do that. And text Becca, warn her we have a guest.”

“Will do. She will freak out.”

“Less freaking out, more ordering pizza.”

“Got it! But does that mean you get out of cooking the chicken frittata?”

“Yeah. Perhaps I’ll manage to convince Becca to make it tomorrow evening.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet she’ll love _that_. Okay, I’ll order the pizza now. Hopefully, it’ll be here by the time you get home.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.”

“See you later.”

Bucky put the phone on the down and started the engine, the radio picking up the usual station he was listening to. “Oh, I didn’t ask, did you come by bike?" he asked as he pulled away from the parking lot and joined the rush hour traffic at that hour.

“Nope, I grabbed a cab, came straight from the Tower.”

“Okay. That’s good to know.” The silence descended in the car again but it was comforting and peaceful, the music in the background soothing Bucky’s sudden nerves.

“Thank you, Buck.” Steve’s voice sounded warm. “Thank you for this.”

“Don’t worry, pal!” Bucky peeked at him from the corner of his eye then fully focused on the traffic ahead. The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, both of them pretending that they had better things to think about.

✧

When they arrived home, the girls were nowhere in sight, though he could hear the radio from the kitchen. Bucky groaned as he closed the door and threw the keys in the small bowl by the door. He shrugged his coat off and noticed that Steve was following his lead.

“We’re home,” Bucky announced loudly as he took his shoes off as well. Steve had already done that, so he was shuffling from one leg to another like he was almost abashed to be there. It was almost endearing if he didn’t know any better.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Bunny answered. Bucky followed her voice in the kitchen where indeed his sisters were doing what looked like an intense study session. There were books and notebooks splayed all over the table, a few sheets crumpled and an empty plate balanced precariously on two volumes. Bucky took in all the mess and shook his head.

Bear was diligently writing an essay and waved him off, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Hey, Bucky! Don’t speak to me! If I don’t write down my idea now, I’ll totally forget it and then I’ll find myself obliged to kill you.”

“Good to know ‘cause I don’t want to be killed.” Bucky entered the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He looked at Bunny who seemed just as focused. “And you?”

“Math.” Bunny winced as if she ate something bad. “Have to finish these exercises or Miss Ramirez is going to have my heart on a silver platter.”

“Glad to see that the dramatic genes of the Barnes family caught you too.” They both took their eyes from their notebooks long enough to scowl at him, before returning their attention to their respective pages. “Are you even going to say hi to Steve?”

“Hi Steve!” They said in unison, waving but still concentrating on their homework.

“Hey girls!”

“Wow, glad to see that the Barnes choir is alive as well. Should I dare to ask when is the pizza going to be here?”

“In another ten minutes. Plenty of time to grab a shower and clean clothes.”

“Are you implying that I stink?”

“Glad I didn’t have to spell it out for you.” Bucky took a subtle sniff of his work shirt then he scowled back at his sister who couldn’t seem to care less. Bunny waved at him dismissively. “Can you please go now? You’re taking our concentration away and if we don’t finish here, we’re really going to kill you, Bucky.”

“Okay, we’re going, we’re going.” Bucky turned to Steve. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, girls, we’ll be in the living room if you need us.”

“Got it!” Bunny mumbled, frowning at the current equation that she was trying to solve. Bucky shrugged and went to the living room accompanied by Steve. As he turned on the TV and began channel surfing, he asked Steve about what he had been watching in recent years, whether any of the recommendations made to him stuck with him or on the contrary, made him question people's taste. By the embarrassed look that Steve got, it was clear that it hadn’t been a straightforward process and that some people must have recommended some stuff that didn’t sit well with the Captain.

Ten minutes later, Becca walked in the house as well.

“I’m home. Also pizza man is here!”

“I’ll get it!” Bucky shouted back and got up to pay for the pizza as he heard the girls scrambling to make room on the kitchen table. Becca watched him as he paid for the delivery then smirked when he closed the door and turned towards her.

“So Steve is here as well?”

“Yes.” Nonchalantly, Bucky called for Steve then marched into the kitchen before she could further comment on the current situation. The girls had already cleaned up the table and were in the process of pouring a glass of orange juice for each of them.

“What happened to the chicken frittata?” Becca asked as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink, glancing over her shoulder at Bucky.

“I postponed it,” he grumbled as he set the pizza boxes on the table and proceeded to share them.

“You postponed it.”

“He was hoping that you would make it tomorrow afternoon,” Bunny said like the traitor that she was. Bucky scowled at her as he nodded to Steve to sit down in his usual purple chair.

“Of course he did.” Becca sighed. They all sat down at the table.

“Can we all pretend for about five minutes that we are a normal family so we don’t horrify Steve?” Bucky grumped as he grabbed a slice of pizza. “How about we talk about our days for once?”

“How about we talk about anything else?” Becca chewed her veggie pizza with much gusto. “Because all my professors seemed to have gone insane today, I had two customers at work that apparently ran a campaign to take the devil’s place, and I have a project due for next Monday and I’m not even halfway through.”

“That bad?” Bucky winced, knowing full well how much Becca hated those days when everything seemed to work out for the worst. She sighed then took a sip of her juice.

“Honestly, it was a shitty day, pardon my French, Steve.”

“We did have swearing words back in the day too, you know?”

“Good to know. In that case, fuck this day!” She grinned, the unhappy curl of her lips dissipating a little.

“We should have a swear jar,” Bear added sagely as she munched happily on her pizza. “Every time you guys use words like _shit_ , _fuck_ or _asshole_ , you should be charged a dollar or more.”

“A dollar or more?” Bucky laughed. “No, thank you. I refuse to pay for the pettiness of others.”

“Well, technically you would pay for the swear words that you said.”

“Yes, but they would be instigated by the bastards I met today for instance.” Becca grabbed another slice of her pizza. “I swear to God, people get insane around this time of year.”

“Because of Halloween?” Steve asked innocently.

“Because of the moon, the wrong side of the bed they woke up on, the color of the sky – you name it, they can probably use it as an excuse for their shitty behavior. And if it was just the customers, I would understand. But today one of my professors raised their voice at a girl in my class for not setting up the projector properly for their presentation. Seriously, is it so hard to be nice to people?”

“Do you want me to have a word with them?” Steve frowned as if he was actually ready to march to Brooklyn College and demand fair treatment of the students. It was so sweet that everyone around the table actually smiled sunnily at him, leaving Steve confused.

“No, but thank you for offering.” Becca swallowed, before following up with, “Though I would imagine that one or two of my professors would benefit from a chat with you. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

“Let me know when you want me to attend a class there.” Steve winked, making Bucky almost choke on his pizza. “I can always say I want to audit an art course –”

“ _Introduction to the late Romantics of the nineteenth century_.”

“I see. Then naturally, I’d have to audit that one specifically.”

“Okay, let’s not corrupt Captain America into committing small acts of public sedition.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Buck.” Steve grinned widely and sharply, and the fake innocent act looked so good on him it made Bucky chuckle in return. “I’m a national icon. I would never instigate insurgence or God forbid, take down rude professors a peg or two.”

“Somehow I don’t buy that, pal!” They looked at each other for a long moment. Something warm and soft unfurled inside Bucky’s chest, crawling through his veins like a swarm of butterflies.

“Well,” Bunny’s voice startled him, “on the other hand, Morgan and I are tentatively talking again so that’s good, I guess.” Bunny shrugged as she got a mouthful of her own slice.

“What does tentatively mean?”

“It means we greet each other and ask how we are.”

“Um, that’s good?”

“I guess?” Bunny shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“And you, Bear?” Bucky leaned back his chair, his pizza halfway finished. “Anyone pi- annoyed you today? Crossed the line?”

“I actually had a pretty good day today. We started on Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliette_ today and Mr. Thompson made us read a few acts like true actors.” Bear smiled sweetly as she poked with her finger the olive that had just fallen from her pizza onto the box. “Santi makes an awesome Mercutio.”

“Mercutio was my favorite character,” Steve said as he carefully set aside his empty box, going for the second one that had been strategically placed in front of him as well.

“Yeah, I liked the guy too. The only character who made sense in the whole goddamn play, if you ask me.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at his sister. “But who’s Santi is what I want to know.”

“No one. I mean, he’s just a kid with whom I share a few AP classes.” Yet, it was clear by her deep blush that it was most definitely someone. However, Bucky didn’t want to put her on the spot and he didn’t want to force her to talk about what looked like a potential crush, so he swallowed the rest of the words that seemed to want to claw out of his throat and changed the trajectory of the conversation.

“I see. Okay, well, on the other hand, I was held back after work in a meeting just to be informed by Dugan that the Halloween extravaganza will take place as usual and you are invited too.”

“Yay!” Bear pumped her fist in the air. “Spider marshmallows, here I come!”

“Spider marshmallows?” Steve asked, perking up like the idea didn’t sound bad at all. Bucky made a face.

“Oh yeah!” Bear pushed on. “Patricia - she's Tim’s wife, we call her Patty - is such a good baker and she can make all sorts of sweets from scratch. She and Tim love Halloween and they always throw a party for their close friends and they have the best things ever.”

“Not to mention that they go all out with the decorations.” Bunny’s eyes glazed over. “Last year, the motif was a haunted house. The year before that, it was a haunted movie set. I don’t know where they get the stuff but it’s amazing each year.”

“Are you coming this year?” Bucky asked casually.

Bunny shrugged. “With the way things are going between me and Morgan, I doubt that I’ll get to do anything fun this year. So yeah, I’ll join.”

“Becca?”

“Not sure yet.” Becca drowned the last mouthful of her pizza with orange juice. “Tina said something about a party at Terrence’s place. Karim wanted to check it out too. So we’ll see. I’ll let you know closer to the date.”

“More spider marshmallows for me!”

“What do you usually do for Halloween?” Bunny asked as Steve lovingly eyed the crumbs of the last pizza.

“I usually spend it at home. Tony’s parties are too outlandish and Sam is usually in DC during this time of the year. As for Nat and Clint, I have no clue how they celebrate but poor Lucky is always sick for a few days afterwards. Too many sweets I wager.”

The silence was so thick they could clearly hear the sounds of the round clock next to the fridge. Bucky needed to give credit to his sisters for not even blinking an eye at the casual mention of most of the Avengers.

“Are you telling me you refuse to go to Tony Stark’s parties?” Bunny was the first to get out of her stupor. “Can I go in your place?”

“No!” Both he and Becca echoed at the same time and then chuckled. “Not a fan of Halloween?”

“Yeah, actually, I like it. It’s just –” Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, something always comes up.”

“Well, if nothing comes up this year, you can join us at Dugan’s place. I’m sure he won’t mind,” Bucky said casually as he stood up and began gathering the pizza boxes.

“Oh yeah! Can you imagine? Oh, Steve, you have to come!” Bear exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. “It could be awesome! You can wear a costume – that’s always mandatory – and nobody will know it’s you.”

“I’m not sure Mr. Dugan would appreciate that.”

“Actually, he’d get a kick out of it.”

“But he hasn’t invited me personally. I wouldn’t want to crash his party like that. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, please, none of that!” Becca waved his objections away. “You can be Bucky’s plus one. Tim always keeps an invitation open for his plus one in case one of these days our brother decides to stop being a monk and join the dating game again.”

“Becca!” Bucky spluttered, choking on his own saliva in his haste to stop his sister. “Stop saying stupid shit like that!”

“What? What part of it is stupid? The part where he keeps a plus one or the part where you’re a monk?”

“I’m not a monk!” He was so flustered that he had to pour himself a glass of water if only so he’d have something to do with his hands. “I just don’t have the time to date. I’m sure Steve knows exactly what I am talking about.”

“Actually, my last date was about a month ago,” Steve said, this time smirking, and nope, Bucky didn’t just fucking blush like a preteen.

“Oh, who asked you?” He scoffed, ignoring the sudden bitter churning in his stomach. Huh, he must have eaten too much pizza. He rubbed at his stomach a few times before he grabbed the pizza boxes and pushed them into the recycling bag. “But yeah, you should come, Steve.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You know, in layman’s terms, this means usually that you’ve already decided not to come.”

Becca shook her head and stood up as well to help Bucky. “In that case, you should join me to some art events that my fellow students organize. Or you know, that our professors make us attend.”

“I would actually like that.”

“You would?” Becca did a double take at that.

“Yes, I’ll give you my email and you can send me the details. I can’t promise I’ll always be able to make it but if it means supporting emerging artists, then I’m all for it.” Steve grabbed his own boxes and, standing up, brushed Bucky’s shoulder as he put them in the recycling bag. “And in my own terms, Buck, it really means I’ll think about it. I’m not always sure about my schedule. But I’ll do my best.”

Bucky smiled hesitantly. The sudden proximity of Steve’s body made his tongue feel clumsy, stuck to the palate, unable to come up with a smart reply. There wasn’t much difference in height between them, but there was a difference in bulk and presence. Steve’s shoulders shadowed his, his stance slightly wider as if he took in a target. No history book ever mentioned the lush curve of Steve’s lips, the straight slope of his jaw – Bucky fisted his hand hard, the temptation of tracing his features with his fingers almost overwhelming.

He bit the inside of his cheek and stepped away, Steve’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he turned away. “I’m going to grab a quick smoke.” When he met his sisters’ majorly judging eyes, Bucky raised his hands in defense, “I know, I know, just a quick one. You’re in charge of picking the movie and making some popcorn.”

“Come on, Steve, let us allow Bucky to poison his lungs while we choose a movie.” Becca gently took Steve’s arm. “Bunny –”

“On it!” She went to the pantry. “Salty and buttery popcorn, here we come!”

Bucky got out into the back yard and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Jesus Christ! He really needed to go out on a date if he was reacting like this in Steve’s mere presence. Or maybe it was Steve’s presence, specifically, that made him so lightheaded. It was ridiculous. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up then took a long drag, ignoring the light shake of his hands.

A chilly wind sneaked through the birch trees at the back of the yard, the slight rustle almost melodic. The autumn had descended upon them like a surprise guest at a dinner party, a multicolored carpet of leaves spreading on the ground. He could barely see them in the obscurity of the evening, but their musty scent was evocative. He took another drag and stubbornly refused to think about the man inside his house.

“The popcorn is ready!” Bunny shouted from the kitchen.

“I’ll be there,” he replied and quickly finished the smoke. He ran his fingers through his hair several times before he made his way inside. He quickly washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then joined everybody in the living room. The girls had strategically placed themselves across the empty seats. Bear and Bunny were sitting on the armchairs, Becca at Bunny’s legs, and Steve on the couch by himself. His sisters were definitely not subtle.

He sighed and sprawled on the couch next to Steve, a bowl of popcorn already between them. The girls and Steve had already chosen a movie on Netflix that they had seen before but most likely, Steve hadn’t.

Becca didn’t stay too long. She was always the first one to go to bed due to her early schedule. She smiled at Steve and said _good night_ then ruffled Bucky’s hair just to be obnoxious and headed upstairs. They wouldn’t be seeing each other for the next two days, their schedules keeping them fully apart.

Bunny and Bear almost made it through the entire movie but the tiredness of the day had caught up with them and so they too retreated to their room, leaving Bucky and Steve alone to watch the ending of the movie.

By the time the movie finished, Bucky was on his way to falling asleep on the couch, right next to Steve. The comfortable silence that had settled over the house seemed to wrap around them both like a snug and fluffy blanket on a cold morning in winter. He could barely keep his eyes open and thought about whether he should suggest to Steve that he just stay overnight when Steve turned his attention away from the TV screen.

“I should get going,” he mumbled as if afraid that he might disturb the peace.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks, Buck.” In the semi-obscurity of the room, Steve’s beautiful blue eyes seemed to darken further the longer he took in Bucky’s slumbering form. There was a sort of more gentle tone around the luscious curve of his lips, the stubble on his clear cut jaw. Bucky blinked several times, surprised by the turn of his thoughts. He was clearly more tired than he had anticipated.

“Do you feel better?” Bucky asked, his words coming out soft and unsure.

“Hmm,” Steve’s voice rumbled pleasantly. Suddenly, something shifted in the air between them. He didn’t know whether it was because Steve had moved closer or because the intent in his eyes had turned hotter like a poker that had spent too long in the fire. “Thank you for this evening, Buck.” A shiver licked at the base of his spine upon hearing that gravelly voice. “And thank your sisters too. I owe you guys a fancy meal.”

“Don’t worry about it, pal. They were happy to see you. And please, think about Dugan’s party. He’ll like having you there. Plus, you get to wear a costume, so no one will recognize you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Okay.”

Bucky fumbled for his phone and called for the cab then stood up and cleared off the coffee table of the leftover popcorn. “Oh, man, tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“Mine too, though I suspect it won’t be as tough as yours.” Steve stood up as well and grabbed an empty bowl, carrying it to the kitchen.

“Do you go on a mission?”

“No, just plenty of meetings. Trust me, being an Avenger isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, as people might think.”

“Sure. Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me that it is actually quite boring.” Bucky smirked and Steve just shook his head. In the hallway, he pulled his coat on as the headlights of the cab made themselves present through the small window of the door.

Steve’s smile was sweet and shy when he glanced at Bucky through his eyelashes. “Thank you for everything, Buck.”

“No need to thank me.” He gently patted his shoulder and then let go. “Wanna exchange phone numbers? So you can get in touch with me the next time. If there is a next time.” Bucky smiled sheepishly. “In fact, am I even allowed to have your number?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’d like that.” They quickly exchanged phone numbers as they both could feel the impatience of the cab driver. Steve opened the door and waved to the driver then turned to Bucky one more time. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“I guess you will.” They smiled like two boys that had just decided to see each other after school. Steve stood there for a few more seconds, then rubbed at his nape and must have decided it was high time to leave. Bucky remained there on the porch until Steve got inside the cab and, shortly after, drove away.

He closed the door and locked it before leaning his forehead against the cold wood and letting himself breathe for several long seconds.

✧

Bucky was running on fumes the following morning when he got to work and Shala informed him that Dugan wanted to see him straight away. Bucky had never been a morning person, but ever since he’d been working two jobs, his sleepiness in the mornings got the best of him and most of the time, he was monosyllabic until he reached at least a second cup of coffee.

He scrubbed at his face as he knocked on the door of Dugan’s office and heard a quiet _Come in_ from the other side. If he was feeling like this, he couldn’t imagine how Becca must have felt when she discovered this morning that their damn coffee maker had finally decided to die on them. Permanently. For a family that was mostly addicted to caffeine, this was a blow.

“G’morning,” he mumbled as he went inside the office and crumpled in the nearest chair available.

“What’s wrong with you?" Dugan asked, his keen eyes taking in Bucky’s sleepy form.

“What _isn’t_ wrong with me? My coffee maker broke down this morning. There was an unhappy note stuck to it from Becca saying it’s dead. So I only managed to get a cup on my way here.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need to buy a new coffee maker, pay for repairing the roof, and I have about two days of working my two jobs. Seriously, this sucks!”

“I see you had an eventful morning.”

“You could say that.”

“And an eventful evening.”

“Oh, we’re getting there, aren’t we?”

Dugan’s shrewd eyes said everything on the matter, but of course it wasn’t in the man’s nature to keep quiet. “Are you going to tell me why Rogers was here yesterday evening?”

“It was like you said, he needed a friend.”

“And all of a sudden that friend is you?”

“Apparently, he liked the fact that I wasn’t fazed by him in the first place. What do you want me to tell you? The man needed a friend, I was there, I took him home for pizza and a crappy movie and then he left.”

“That is all?”

“That’s all.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at his boss. “You said yesterday that he looked like he needed a friend. Why the sudden third degree?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that he didn’t take advantage of you.”

“I don’t think that he’s capable of taking advantage of anyone.” Bucky sighed and sank further into his chair. He thought of Steve on his porch yesterday evening, just before he left. He thought of his eyes. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. “He’s okay, once you get past the public persona.”

Dugan leaned back in his chair as well and crossed his arms. When he spoke, he kept his tone level, “So he just wants to be your friend.”

“I guess.”

“Should I expect having Tony Stark as a guest at my Halloween party now?”

“Har har, don’t go that far, boss. You don’t get that honor so easily. And besides, I think you should ask Dernier that. Isn’t he always attending meetings with that guy these days?”

“I guess, but he’s not the one with an Avenger on speed dial.”

“I definitely don’t have Steve on speed dial. However, just to let you know, I did invite him to your party.”

“You did what now?” Dugan actually blushed. “Did he say he’d come?”

“He said he’d think about it. He’ll let me know closer to the date.”

“Hmmm.” Dugan scratched at his cheek. “So you did get his phone number.”

“Yeah, so?” Bucky shrugged. “We only exchanged numbers yesterday.”

“I got that from his impromptu visit,” Dugan said. “I just want you to be careful.”

“I am careful. Should I remind you that you were the one that basically brought him into my life?” Bucky shook his head when he noticed Dugan’s dismayed face. He sucked in a deep breath before saying, “Look, Steve Rogers is definitely not what I expected him to be. And if he wants to be friends with me, fine, I’ll oblige. But rest assured, I know exactly where I’m standing with him.”

“If you say so.”

“I definitely say so. Now, is there any more of this third degree or can I go and start work?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dugan waved him away. “And make yourself some coffee as well, or you’ll be insufferable today.”

“Please, I’m just a bucket of charm and sunshine all day every day.” Bucky stood up and grinned sharply at his boss.

“You’re a bucket of something all right.” Dugan shook his head. “Now go on, get out of here. And stop making friends in high places. I don’t want to lose you to Stark Industries or something.”

“Yeah, like _that’s_ going to happen.” Bucky opened the door and winked. “You’ll always be my favorite boss anyway.”

“I’ve also been your _only_ boss until Dernier tried to steal you away from me. Bucky!” Something in Dugan’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at his boss, who frowned at him. “For what it’s worth, though, be careful. I know he needed a friend and I’m glad that you were there for him. He seems like a good guy but he was also quick to accuse you of sabotaging his bike or something. Don’t forget that.”

Bucky nodded and closed the door behind him. He went to the staff room to make himself a quick cup of coffee then went to his station to begin work on the newest bike that had been brought in. And he tried his hardest not to think about Steve Rogers.

✧

The rain pattered on the roof of the car with musical indifference as Bucky parked on the driveway and switched the engine off. He sighed heavily and passed his fingers through his hair then grabbed his lunchbox and his keys and got out. He rushed to shelter under the thick roof of the porch and then set his things on the small wooden table that they’d always kept outside as he sank in the rickety chair next to it. It was close to midnight, he’d been working for almost twelve hours and he was completely drained.

He watched the sleepy world around him – there were few houses on the street with lights still on at that time of the night. A car would pass by every now and then, the water splashing over the pavement in muted waves, tiny drops of rain disappearing over and over again in the dim street lights. Above them, the thick clouds took on almost an orangey color, the city lights reflecting into them with stubborn efficiency.

He put his hands into his pockets, one leg up the railing, a precarious balance but pleasant nonetheless. Tomorrow morning, he had the contractor coming in to sort out the roof. Hopefully, he would be gone by noon so Bucky could enjoy the rest of his Saturday. He sank further into the chair, the backrest digging uncomfortably into his nape.

A heavy weariness plastered itself over his shoulders, thick and unyielding. He should go inside, make sure that everything was turned off, and then head upstairs. Take a quick shower, change, go to bed… His fingers twitched at the phantom feel of clean sheets beneath them. Yes, it would be pleasant. And yet… yet there he was, watching the rain.

He pulled out one of his hands and grabbed his phone.

His thumb hovered over the icon for his contacts. He shouldn’t bother anyone at this hour. Everyone was tired, had tough schedules, second jobs, or kids or responsibilities to keep them up at night. But perhaps – perhaps …

Bucky sighed again and bit his bottom lip, teeth digging in a little too hard, and then his thumb chose the name, pressing it gently as if just the ghost of it wasn’t enough for it not to dial the number. Something warm uncoiled in his chest when two rings later, there was a warm voice at the other end, rumbling gently in confusion, “Bucky?”

“Yeah.” Bucky shuffled forward in the chair. “It’s me. How are you, pal?”

A brief moment of silence. “I’m fine, Buck. How are you?”

“Tired.”

Steve hummed at the other end. “I see. And you called me close to midnight to ask me how I am?” The rumbling of Steve’s voice turned even more pleasant. How was that possible? His voice rang comfortable and kind in the semi-obscurity of the night.

“Um, I guess?” Bucky shrugged though there was no one to see. “I don’t know. I just got back from work, I’m tired as hell and I just –” _I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to talk to you._ Bucky swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight, words stuck in his throat like pesky crumbs gone the wrong way.

“How come you just got back from work?” Steve asked, his voice sweet as honey. Bucky sighed and dropped his leg next to the other and wiped at his face with his free hand. Was Steve making conversation or did he genuinely not know about the second job? He had his doubts – after all, they checked him thoroughly before coming to the auto shop. So he guessed that it most likely had to do with Steve trying to keep the normal side of their friendship on track. You know, that side where people asked questions in order to find out things about the other.

“Yeah,” he answered at last when he realized that Steve was calling out his name. “I also work for a small company that deals with renewable energy on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays”

“Sounds interesting.” He could hear a rustle of sheets, Steve likely making himself comfortable. The familiar blush flooded his cheeks. He bit his lip again, thankful that there was no one to witness this silly display of utter insanity. “You really are a jack of all trades.”

Bucky shrugged again. He was getting ridiculous so he cleared up his voice and asked, “What about you?”

“Hm? Bucky, shouldn’t you go to bed?” There was genuine concern floating between the lines. “Another tough day awaits you tomorrow.”

“Pal, work with me here.” Bucky attempted to make for humor but failed miserably. He pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to go for honesty. “I just – can we just talk? If you can of course and you’re not busy. Oh God, did I interrupt you doing something or –” Maybe he had been wrong. “Or are you on a mission?”

“Bucky, no, don’t worry! I would have mentioned something otherwise. Plus, I don’t keep my personal phone with me when I go on missions.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Glad you think so.” Steve’s smile was palpable. “So what did you want to ask me?”

Bucky hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I wanted to ask – how about you? I know about some of the jobs you had before the war. What was the wackiest job you had that nobody knows?”

“Off the record?”

“Of course, off the record. Pal, everything you’ve ever said to me so far has been off the record and I intend to leave it as such. Steve, I would never tell anyone what you told me in strict confidence.”

“Thank you, Buck.” And yeah, thank God nobody could see the hot burning blush that spread quicker than wildfire on his cheeks. _Blegh_ , he should do something about this annoying blushing of his. He was almost thirty, for Christ’s sake.

“No problem, pal. Now spill the beans, give me some dirt.”

“Dirt? I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, pal, but I’ll have you know I’m a national icon. I don’t do dirt.” Steve’s voice had slipped with each word into a beautiful Brooklyn accent, so thick by the end of it that it melted like butter on his tongue. Bucky grinned widely at the mocking tone.

“A national icon that lived in Brooklyn, misspent his youth trying to kick everyone’s ass and consorted with immigrants.”

“Don’t forget the swearing!”

“Oh yes, how could I forget the swearing?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Steve’s laugh was warm, thick and sweet like molasses, making Bucky grin wider in turn. “There was also the smoking.”

“Meh, can’t fault you that. I smoke as well. It’d be a classic case of pot meet kettle. Although, I do have the feeling that you’re using this lovely enumeration of your flaws –”

“– and misspent youth –”

“– and that, thank you very much. I feel like you’re using all of this to actually deflect. I smell some dirt right here, Captain Rogers, sir.”

There was a thick silence at the end of the other line, followed by a hard swallow, making Bucky feel like he hit the hammer with this one. And when Steve’s hesitant voice came across the line, the certainty of it made him smirk. “Just before I finally enlisted thanks to the help of Dr. Erskine, I worked for a few short months for a salacious magazine.”

“A salacious magazine?”

“Yes, well, you know.” All saints in heaven above, but it definitely sounded like Steve too blushed the hell out of it at this one.

“No, I don’t know, Steve. What don’t you enlighten me?”

“You’re a jerk.” Steve’s sweet huff made Bucky actually giggle like a twelve-year-old. “Fuck this! Yeah, I worked at a salacious magazine for about five months and my role there was drawing obscene drawings.”

“What was the name of the magazine?”

“Har har, forget about it, pal! I’m not telling you a thing. Next thing I know, you’ll google the blasted thing and find what I should hope it had been burnt a long time ago.”

“You don’t let me have any fun.” They both chuckled. “Not even a small hint?”

“Don’t even try it, Buck!”

Bucky chuckled. “Damn! That would have definitely made great blackmail fodder.”

“Which is exactly why I’m passing on the opportunity to give you even the slightest hint.” Steve chuckled. “But it was good pay and, in the end, it had become one of the few times in my life when I didn’t have to worry so much about money.”

“I know what you mean.” Bucky sighed, the good humor dissipating into the chilly air of the night.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed?” Steve’s voice sounded like a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy winter day. “Tomorrow you have work and it’s past midnight.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Steve?”

“No, no, of course not. I just –”

“Relax, pal! I’m kidding. And no, it’s okay, tomorrow I’m actually off work.”

“How come?”

“I have a contractor coming in to fix my roof. I noticed that an area was damaged, probably during the summer storms, and needed some professional help to fix that.”

“Hope it’s not too serious.”

“Well, in the long run, the guy recommended me to change the whole roof. He said that it’s not good to have different patches of the roof with different life spans. Anyway, long story short, it might cost me eight grand and I think next year could be a tough one.” Bucky exhaled, his breath coming out like a soft whistle through his teeth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump all of this on you.”

“Hey, I think I was the first one to dump my shit on you so you get a pass. Also, what are friends for? If there’s anything I can do, please just let me know.”

“Yeah, continue to let me vent at you in the middle of the night when you should probably have gone to sleep by now.”

“I’m not a ten-year-old.” It was funny to picture Captain Rogers rolling his eyes at him. Also, implausible, though the guy was a little shit, so yeah, he definitely rolled his eyes at Bucky.

“Good to know.”

“What? That I’m not a ten-year-old?”

“Yeah, that. Because it would be extremely awkward to explain _that_ to the government of this country. Also, you’re riding a bike, pal.” Bucky studied the silver Sedan passing by on the street, the shadow of the driver leaning forward, the rain now pelting everything ferociously. “I meant, it’s good to know we’re friends.”

“We are.”

“Does that mean we get to go out for beers and complain about our days?”

“For sure! In fact, this is a ritual that I haven’t been initiated into this century so I’d like that.”

“Count yourself invited the next time I go out with the guys.”

“I will.”

Silence descended over the line again, this time comforting and reassuring somehow.

“Thank you for listening, Steve.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, Buck,” Steve said, his voice homelike, thick with something that Bucky couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Now go to bed. You’ll thank me tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll thank you now.” Bucky stood up, his back popping uncomfortably. “Damn, everything hurts these days.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, you punk!”

Steve chuckled. “Have a good night, Buck. Let me know tomorrow how the roof work went.”

“I will. Thank you, Steve. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Bucky took in the night spreading in front of him, rainy and disjointed, then grabbed his things from the table and went inside. It was only when he actually pulled the covers over him that he realized he’d been smiling all along.

So naturally, everything had to come to a head on Saturday morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for not giving up on me and continuing to be an awesome beta. All the mistakes left are mine and mine alone. :)
> 
> I completely forgot that today was Wednesday (that should tell you what kind of week I had so far O_O ). Initially, I thought of ending this chapter with "Then all hell broke loose on Saturday morning". But I thought it sounded too ominous. ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ


	5. In which things come to a head

Saturday morning welcomed Bucky with pale sunshine leaking through dark and thick clouds, the wind picking up every now and then. The hope that the weather would hold long enough to have his roof fixed seemed flimsy at best. He had gone earlier to pick up coffee for his sisters and Luke as he had promised the other day (he also picked up an additional two, just in case there were going to be more people helping him out). With a renewed sense of urgency, he also added finding time tomorrow morning to go and buy a new coffee maker because seriously, this was getting ridiculous.

There was a sense of wrongness to his day, an odd sense of guilt permeating the edges of his consciousness – as if he was supposed to be already at work and it was wrong to stay at home. Bucky passed his fingers through his hair as he sat down at the table and grabbed a long gulp from his coffee. Thinking back, it was probably only the second time since he had begun working for Dernier as well that he had asked for the day off, the other occasion being the nasty bug that made the whole house throw up for two days straight.

He propped his feet on the closest chair and leaned back further, closing his eyes and savoring the bitter taste – he liked his coffee black like his soul. There had been so few occasions lately to just kick back and relax that the meaning of it eluded him at times. Case in point, Bucky had already grabbed the opportunity to do some chores around the house, for which he typically wouldn’t find the time. He planned to clean the gutters and fix a wobbly part of the porch railing to ensure it didn’t break the next time someone leaned against it. If the weather allowed it, he was probably also going to clean the yard, trim the hedges at the back, and mow the lawn.

Another weary sigh. Or maybe he could just kick back and relax for the rest of the day. He was toying with the idea of grabbing a smoke with whatever was left from his coffee when Bunny and Bear entered the kitchen in a cacophony of yawns and stretches, looking only half-awake. Moments like this one served as a bitter-sweet reminder that his sisters were growing up, soon they’d be on their way to carve their own in life, and yet still so young and innocent about the world. As much as one could be innocent these days.

“Morning,” Bear mumbled as she made a beeline for the coffee cups that awaited her on the counter. She looked for her name on them and then gratefully grabbed his one the moment she found it, savoring the warmth and scent of the cappuccino that she always preferred. She came and sat next to Bucky, sighing happily.

Bucky opened his eyes, unable to hide his amusement when he noticed that she was wearing her koala sweater – one that Ma bought for her on a short trip to Australia, the bear proclaiming that he loved warm hugs and kisses. Her hair fell down on her shoulders in a tousled debacle, reminding Bucky of those moments when she was younger and she would sneak into their parents’ bed for a lazy morning nap.

“G’morning,” he replied. “Why are you up so early?”

“Well, if the guy is coming to fix the roof at eight, there isn’t much point sleeping in, is there?”

“What about Becca?”

“She’s definitely sleeping in.” Bear grinned and Bucky chuckled. Out of everyone, probably because she woke up at ungodly hours during the week, Becca adored her weekends and long mornings in bed. There was a general rule that nobody should disturb her before ten o’clock; if someone did dare to defy her will, well, there had been a lot of pillows and alarm clocks thrown at the door, accompanied by some serious swearing, the likes of which Bucky had no desire whatsoever to find out where she had learned them.

“Want some scrambled eggs?” Bunny asked as she grabbed her own cup, taking a long sip and grimacing at the burn of the hot liquid. She carefully set it on the counter then pulled out the frying pan before carefully inspecting the fridge deciding to go with eggs, zucchini, and bell peppers. Ah, she was going with the recipe that Patricia, Dugan’s wife, taught her on a lazy Sunday morning when Bunny had declared her hate of Bucky’s scrambled eggs and had demanded a healthier recipe. There might have been some eye rolls and some foot-tapping involved as well, but they weren’t talking about the _egg incident_ , as they had dubbed it.

“I want some, please,” Bear chipped in, humming pleasantly.

“No, thank you.” Bucky shook his head and closed his eyes again. “I made myself a sandwich earlier before going out for coffee.”

“You sure? I can probably fry you some bacon. Or something.”

“I’m good.” Bucky smiled. “Besides, the guy is about to show up.”

“Okay.” But a small twinge of something reverberated in her voice so Bucky opened his eyes and looked at Bunny. She had her back turned to them but her shoulders were slightly tense, an air of studied preoccupation about her. On the other hand, Bear carefully stood up and, abandoning her coffee cup, took out the plates to begin setting up the table in a studied move to avoid looking at him.

“Guys, I promise, I’m fine,” Bucky insisted, though he wasn’t sure whether he understood what exactly this was about.

“If you say so.” Bunny shrugged but didn’t turn away from her eggs.

“I promise I ate.”

“Hmmm.”

The air in the kitchen had suddenly changed into something more pervasive.

“Girls, is there –?” A knock on the door interrupted him. His sisters startled but wouldn’t look at him. Bucky opened his mouth, ready to add something else, when another knock came, so he stood up with a weary sigh and went to answer it.

“Good morning,” Luke said, his face luminous. He was wearing a rough-looking hoodie and cargo shorts and his red hair was studiously tousled. He looked quite good for a guy that had come to tear down part of Bucky’s roof that morning.

Bucky actually blinked several times, slightly taken aback by the cheery greeting, before he kicked himself and hurried to answer, “G’morning. Sorry, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“No problem, I’m not a morning person either.” Luke winked and before Bucky could further embarrass himself, he turned slightly towards the guy shuffling on his feet on the last step of the porch. He was quite tall with a shock of blonde hair, looking only half-awake. “This is Dan,” Luke made the presentation with a friendly tone, “he’s going to help me out today.”

“Nice to meet you.” Bucky took a few steps forward and shook Dan’s hand. “So do you need any help setting up everything or are you good?”

“We’re fine, thank you.” Luke looked at his watch. “We’re going to work mostly on the outside, removing the shingles and replacing them, but I’ll double-check the underlayment for any additional damage. Just to confirm my initial assessment.”

“Okay. Sure.” Bucky pointed a finger over his shoulder. “I got a couple of coffee cups ready for you if you want to. Our coffee maker died this week and I didn’t have the time to go and buy a new one, so this was the next best thing I could do.”

“Oh man, thank you,” Dan hurried to say gratefully. “I didn’t have the time to grab one this morning so much appreciated.”

“Yeah, Bucky, thank you.” A slight frown bloomed between Luke’s eyebrows. “But you shouldn’t have bothered. You were under no obligation to do that for us.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want to come in or should I bring them out?”

“Please bring them out. We’ll start setting up the stuff we need in the meantime.”

“I got you guys black coffee. Do you need any milk or sugar with that?”

“I’ll have one sugar and no milk.”

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Luke’s green eyes crinkled sweetly. “We’re going to be outside.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll be right there as well.”

“Okay.”

Bucky returned to the kitchen and pulled on his hoodie. The girls were already eating their scrambled eggs. Whatever had previously upset them or worried them, it seemed to have dissipated as they watched him over their plates. “The roofers are here so I’m going to offer them the coffee and then I’ll be out, cleaning the gutters. They said that they’d be working from the outside for now. Yell if you need anything.”

Bunny’s gaze turned harder as she watched him drop some sugar in Dan’s coffee. “Sure,” she said in a careful tone. “I’ll start on the laundry, and Bear is going to clean up a little in the kitchen.”

“Okay, girls. Thank you.”

He grabbed the coffee cups and then joined the other men outside. They said their thanks again and then Bucky let them do their job. He had always hated having someone hovering over his shoulders at work, constantly checking what he was doing or contesting his decisions, therefore he didn’t want to be one of those men that always thought they knew better than the actual professional at work.

He grabbed his own ladder and started cleaning up the gutters from the opposite end of the house to ensure that the roofers wouldn’t feel like they were under constant supervision. Bucky had always enjoyed manual labor, even when it turned ridiculously back-breaking – mostly because it conferred him the sort of peacefulness that he could rarely find in anything else. The reality was that his thoughts would constantly swirl around the daily conundrums, the financial worries for this or that, but when he worked with his hands, when he paid attention to what he was doing, everything else melted away in the background.

Thus the early morning melted away in a haze of menial chores that needed doing while Luke and Dan minded their business and fixed up the roof. He was so caught up in his work he actually didn’t hear the squealing from inside the house until after he had already returned the ladder back to its usual place and had grabbed his toolbox from the shed. He had just lit up his cigarette when the girls’ squealing and laughter pierced his thoughts.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked as he pushed the backdoor open, trying to keep his hand that was holding the cigarette on the outside. Becca had joined Bunny and Bear in ripping paper from a big box and as they turned, the gap between them revealed a shiny new coffee maker box. Bucky frowned harder at it. “Were you so desperate for coffee, you ordered one online?”

“Nope, it’s a gift from Steve,” Bunny answered, her grin large and happy. “It’s a Keurig, Bucky! A _Keurig_!”

An ugly unease uncoiled inside his belly. “What the hell?”

“Look, Bucky, there’s a note.” Bear bounced happily to him, without noticing that he sat frozen, halfway still outside. Blocky letters on a white card with the logo of the company that had provided the coffee maker. “ _I hope this brings you a bit of joy this morning. Your friend, Steve_. He’s such a kind person.”

“How the hell did he know that our coffee maker is broken?”

“I told him,” Becca admitted as she began opening the box. “You know we exchanged email addresses on Wednesday. I sent him an invitation to Karim’s exhibition and made a little polite conversation. Amongst other things, I mentioned the situation with coffee maker but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Well, he clearly thought of something since he bought the goddamn thing.” The anger that slipped into his words made his sisters stare back at him in unison. Bucky noticed his cigarette was snuffed out so he put what was left behind his ear and walked fully into the house. “What?” His sisters kept on staring at him on confusion. “I don’t think we should keep it.”

“You don’t think we should keep it,” Becca repeated, narrowing her eyes. Bunny huffed and crossed her arms while Bear simply kept looking between them, not comprehending why everyone was suddenly annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s a Keurig!” Bunny waved at the damn box. “Do you know how much this one costs?”

“Precisely because I know how much it costs, I don’t want to keep it.”

“Well, I don’t agree.”

“Seriously, girls, just think about it.” Annoyance made Bucky’s fingers twitch with the need to light up that cigarette. He stepped further into the house, closing the back door behind him. “Yeah, it was nice of him but we shouldn’t accept it. It’s not right.”

“Why isn’t it right?” Bear asked and the innocence of the question was enough of an answer. “Steve just wanted to do a nice thing for us. He clearly thinks he is our friend. Why shouldn’t we keep it?”

Bucky clenched his teeth, his jaw working overtime especially when he saw Becca jutting her chin out like the stubborn girl that she was. She actually turned to the box and grabbed the instructions manual to leaf through it.

“Well, the delivery guy has already left,” she said in a measured tone, “so we can’t refuse it now. Also, this coffee maker isn’t for you, Bucky. It’s for all of us. Actually, now that I think better of it, I was the one that mentioned the coffee troubles so he probably sent it to me. So I take full ownership of it – don’t even think about returning it. It’s a goddamn Keurig!"

“I know, damn it, I know. But Steve shouldn’t buy us stuff that’s so expensive. He barely knows us. Are you actually going to tell me that you’re comfortable with accepting this? From him?"

“He’s not some stranger from the street, Bucky.” Becca gripped the leaflet tighter while his other sisters watched their discussion like a tennis match. “He’s _Steve_ and he wanted to do something nice for us. Now, I know that it’s very difficult for you to accept that people can do nice things,” she hurried to add, “but it’s not difficult for me. So I say we keep it. All in favor?” Bunny and Bear shot their hands up before they could even blink. “Anyone against?” Bucky raised his hand and scowled at them, ignoring Becca’s triumphant smile. “Well, tough luck to you. We’re in the majority and we decide to keep it.”

His jaw actually began to hurt with how much he was clenching his teeth, unsure whether he was angry at the girls for deciding to keep that damn Keurig despite his reluctance or at Steve for daring to buy them such an expensive gift in the first place.

“You can glare all you want, but this matter has now been decided,” Bunny mumbled, though it was clear that she didn’t like to see him upset. Though it was Bear that took it one step further and, coming by his side, she hugged his left arm and looked up at him, sweet and warm.

“Is it so bad that we want to keep it? It was nice of him to send us all such a gift.”

“It was but that doesn’t make me –” _Comfortable_. This didn’t sit right with Bucky – they barely knew Steve and while he understood on some level that the guy wanted to do something nice for them, it reeked of too much guilt. Bucky didn’t know what exactly bothered him about the whole situation but had it not been for the girls, he sure as hell wouldn’t have accepted the goddamn Keurig.

“Bucky?” Luke startled them all, interrupting their face-off. His green eyes slid over him. Perhaps sensing that he might not have stepped in at the right time, he smiled hesitantly. “We’re finished if you want to come outside?”

“Sure,” Bucky replied and extricated himself from Bear’s half-hug. “This discussion isn’t over.”

“Democracy has won, Bucky,” Becca crowed over him, indifferent to Luke’s presence, “so this discussion is dead _and_ buried.”

Bucky wiped at his face and followed Luke outside. The contractor began explaining what they’d done, assuring him that the underlayment was indeed intact. He even took Bucky up on the roof to show him the section of the roof where they replaced the shingles – their work had been good, the only sign that they’d worked on that patch being the new shingles. The old shingles had been carefully set in neat rows, next to the wall of the house, and any mess they might have created had been swept.

Bucky nodded and asked all the right questions, then sorted out the payment with Luke while Dan was already getting all their tools and ladders back in their van. Had he not been upset with Steve’s gesture, he would have appreciated Luke’s tidiness and professional attitude all the more.

SENT 12:37pm

_Can you talk?_

Bucky stared at his phone screen, willing it to show a message as soon as possible. His anger simmered under his skin, wiping any other thoughts away apart from facing off Steve Rogers and giving him a piece of his mind.

RECEIVED 12:43pm

_In a meeting at the Tower._

RECEIVED 12:44pm

_Call you later._

Fuck! Of course, how convenient for him! Bucky huffed, tightening his grip on the phone. How dared he buy such an expensive coffee maker? What? Did he think that Bucky couldn’t fucking afford one or something? That all of a sudden Bucky needed his handouts or whatever he wanted to call it? He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to proceed next.

“Is everything all right?” Luke raised his hands in an appeasing gesture when Bucky swung back at him, glare in full view. 

“Jesus, sorry!” Bucky wiped at his face in an attempt to control his anger. “Just one of my – um, friends really pissed me off this morning.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that!” Luke’s eyes turned kinder. “I hope it isn’t serious.”

“No, it’s just – well, never mind, I’ll have to sort it out with him.” Bucky looked at the van, Dan already inside of it, checking his phone. The logo of Luke’s business shone cheerfully in the feeble sunshine. “All done?”

“Yeah, I took everything. Please let me know if you find something laying around and I’ll come and pick it up later.” Luke rubbed at the back of his head. “I do tend to forget one or two tools around.”

“Sure, I’ll check.” Bucky put his phone inside his hoodie pocket and offered all his attention to Luke. “Do you have more jobs for today?”

“No, today is going to be a pretty easy day.”

“Well, I’m grateful that you’ve accommodated my schedule and come here on a Saturday. Thank you for everything.” They shook hands and Luke opened his mouth but when he finally spoke, instinct told Bucky that what came out wasn’t what he’d meant in the first place.

“Sure, Bucky. My pleasure.” His smile was polite and courteous. “Now you have my contact details in case you experience any issue with your roof again.”

“Yeah, thank you.” Bucky shifted his weight from one leg to another and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I wish I could talk more but I really need to get in touch with my friend.”

“Sure, of course.” The professional shadow that fell over Luke was unmistakable. “Good to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see ya.” They shook hands again and then Luke went to the van.

Waving them off, Bucky grabbed the paperwork that the roofer gave him and went back inside the house. He sucked in a shuddering breath, abandoning his plans for the day in a matter of seconds. Making up his mind, he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and yelled to his sisters, who still marveled at the newest appliance, “I’m going to run an errand.”

“An errand?” Becca shouted back.

“Yeah, I’ll be back soon,” he replied and slammed the door behind him before she could add her five cents. The fury now buzzed inside of him and if he couldn’t reason with the girls, then he sure as hell was going to try with Steve.

✧

One would have thought that by the time he reached the Stark Tower (they could call it the Avengers Tower all day every day but it had always been Stark’s tower), Bucky would have cooled down. And normally, he would have. But the anger simmered through him like a low-pressure cooker that was about to explode. He had bitten his bottom lip raw by the time he managed to find a parking space, three blocks away. Also, fuck Manhattan!

On his walk to the Tower, hands balled in fists and staring straight ahead, all the other people stepped away from him as if he was about to lash out at them too. Nah, he wasn’t going to lash out at anyone else, except a certain superhero guy who went by the name of Steve and had the bad habit of buying stuff he shouldn’t have concerned himself with. When he reached the main entrance of the Tower, he marched in with all the confidence that only righteous fury could confer him.

“Hello, sir,” one of the security men greeted him politely as he ushered him through the metal detector. Huh, that stopped him a little in his tracks – he had always assumed that superheroes had, you know, super villains as enemies and that said enemies supposedly wouldn’t barge in, guns blazing. Didn’t they all have superpowers or something these days? Meh, what did Bucky know about this stuff anyway?

“Oh, hello.” A bit thrown off, Bucky blushed as he put his car keys and his wallet into the small tray and carefully walked through the metal detector. Nothing pinged so he was allowed to grab his items.

“Smoking is prohibited in this building, sir.” Bucky blinked in utter confusion at the security staff and one of them, a scruffy looking man, pointed to the half-smoked cigarette that he had kept behind his ear this whole time. A furious blush pressed against his cheeks, hot and embarrassing. He plucked it and looked for a can to throw it. “You can give it to me, sir,” the guy said and Bucky set it on his open palm, mortified. With as much dignity as he was able to muster, he walked to the reception desk.

The reception area was dominated by a vast mahogany desk, which had probably needed a small army to carry it inside, then assemble it. The desk, which had all the modern amenities, was flanked by several potted leafy plants and two large lamps that embodied the vintage vibe. Had he not been so annoyed (or so intimidated), he might have taken a picture of them to send Bunny so they could laugh together about their artificial air later on.

Above the desk, someone had hung a huge painting that appeared to be old and expensive, the imagery of a shipwreck so familiar it made Bucky stop in his tracks and admire it. There was something utterly forbidding about the way the dark blue of the furious sea had been painted, the small ship swallowed halfway by the giant waves. Had he been calmer, he was sure he would have been able to come up with the name of the painter.

His momentary pause drew the attention of the two men that were sitting on one of the comfortable-looking couches. Dressed in expensive suits, they seemed more caught up in the files they’d been studying up to that point than in a guy dressed in a thick hoodie and some dark jeans with a hole showing off his right knee.

Bucky straightened his spine and walked confidently to the desk, only to momentarily falter yet again at the sight of the young lady, her eyes sharp as an eagle’s and bearing an attitude that signaled that she was definitely not someone to mess around with. Though, to be fair, Bucky had always done his best to be polite in every circumstance of his life.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?” Her voice sounded crisp and professional.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Bucky kept his voice level and polite. “I’m here to see Captain Rogers. He advised me that he’s attending a meeting here today.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

“No, I do not. However, if you would kindly inform Captain Rogers that James Barnes is here, I am sure –”

“Oh yes, Mr. Barnes,” she interrupted him, her furrowed brow suddenly smoothing, her lips spreading into a polite smile. “Please, step into the elevator to your left, sir, and press floor sixteen. Once you reach the desired floor, Jarvis will guide you further.”

“Um, thank you?” Bucky said, bewildered, unsure of what the hell was going on. He made to take a step towards the recommended elevator but stopped in his tracks. “Um, ma’am, excuse me, please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure that I am the right James Barnes that you should let in so easily?” Her lips twitched in the most perfect moue and Bucky quickly added, “I just don’t want to create any issues for you because –”

“Mr. Barnes,” she raised a perfectly manicured hand at him, “I can assure you I know exactly who you are, you are in fact that only James Barnes allowed as such, and you’re not making any sort of trouble for me. Please proceed as instructed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky nodded, trying to shake off the sense of surrealness that came over him. “The elevator on the left?” At her nod, he hurried along. “Please excuse me.”

“Of course, sir.”

He could feel the other two men’s eyes boring a hole in his back, probably wondering why the hell a guy like him was being seen to straight away whereas they were still waiting for God knew who or for how long. Bucky waited for the doors of the elevator to open before stepping in and pressing lucky number sixteen. Pleasant music soothed his fraying nerves because, if Bucky was honest, he was thrown off.

How the hell did that woman know who he was and why was he sent to Steve straight away? Did Becca send the alarm? Did she tell him that he was on his way here and Rogers attempted to spare his feelings by telling the young lady to wait for a furious guy? Well, that wasn’t going to stop him from making Rogers listen to him or giving him a piece of his mind.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened to another opulent lobby. Jesus, just how many sumptuous lobbies were in this goddamn building? He stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, searching for that Jarvis guy, but surprise surprise there was absolutely no one there.

“Turn left, Mr. Barnes. The second door on the right,” an automatic voice informed him, startling Bucky so bad he almost had a heart attack.

“Sweet Baby Jesus! Warn a guy, will ya?” Bucky snapped and rubbed at his chest as if his heart was about to jump out of it and run out screaming from him. He looked up at the ceiling, scowling, searching for the cameras where that Jarvis guy was able to see him. Huh, no cameras! What the hell? He glared at his surroundings, unsure of where that voice was coming from.

“I apologize, Mr. Barnes,” the automatic voice replied, his accent vaguely British for some reason. “My name is Jarvis, I am an artificial intelligence governing the mainframe of the building, amongst other things.”

Bucky froze in the middle of the lobby, utterly blown away by the whole thing. “Wow! That’s, um, impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck. “I would appreciate a warning next time though, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Jarvis is fine, sir.”

“Right.” Bucky nodded sagely, though he was completely bewildered by this turn of events. Um, right, he was there to yell at a self-righteous superhero and that was what he was going to do. “Second door on the right you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky marched towards the designated door then knocked softly and when he heard a commanding _Come in_ , he barged in the room, scowling hard at the superhero currently sitting in an armchair, halfway risen to meet him. “Listen up, Rogers, just who the hell gave you permission to buy me a coffee maker? And an expensive one at that? I can perfectly buy one by myself and I don’t need your pity okay?”

“So this is the famous James Barnes.” The words were strong enough to penetrate the furious haze that had descended upon him the moment he met Rogers’ eyes, who still looked utterly bewildered by Bucky’s tirade, mouth half-open. He looked utterly ridiculous. _Good_ , Bucky thought viciously, then turned to the other person to give them a piece of his mind as well, only to completely freeze.

Steve was not alone. Tony Stark measured him with such a leer that Bucky was tempted to smack it off his face. He was sitting on a couch, the sleeves of his expensive shirt rolled up, and currently checking what looked like holographic plans of something. Next to him, a sandy blonde guy sat, drinking coffee from a goddamn coffee pot, a pink bandaid set on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not famous,” Bucky muttered. Yeah, that only made Stark grin wider.

“Okay, Buttercup.”

Bucky huffed and waved dismissively at them as he returned his attention to Steve who had finally managed to stand up, his lips twitching in amusement. “Can we go to another place?” Bucky grumbled as he crossed his arms. “I need to yell at you for the Keurig and I feel intimidated enough by this whole goddamn building, I don’t need Iron Man and this other guy staring me down.”

Steve opened his mouth only be interrupted by Stark, “Excuse you? You’re in my house. The least you could do is introduce yourself.”

“You already know who I am.”

“Yes, but that was just because I am astute and Cap here has already mentioned your name a few times.”

“A few times?” Bucky didn’t know who he should be staring at right now.

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t get your pretty little head in a twist about it.” Stark rubbed his hands then leaned back against the backseat of the couch, spreading on it like a goddamn Roman patrician. “So you’re James Barnes.”

“And you’re Tony Stark.” Bucky rolled his eyes and then looked at the other guy, who took another gulp of the coffee and then said quietly, “Clint Barton.”

A touch of surprise then, “Oh, you’re Terry Dugan’s landlord.”

“That’s what you took from that?”

“Look, I’m not ignorant. Like, I know the guy must be Hawkeye.” Bucky glared at the billionaire.

“Oh, he is perfect!” Stark clapped his hands then rubbed them. “Okay, James, so what’s this business of you coming here to yell at our good old Cap?”

“Well, my coffee maker broke and he bought me a Keurig without my permission.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, the certainty of how stupid the whole thing sounded perfectly acceptable to him because while it might sound stupid to them, there was something else at stake here. He shuffled on his feet then turned to Steve. “Look, can you please not buy me stuff? I can do it by myself. Also, why did you have to go with the most expensive alternative?”

“Um, Tony suggested it?” Steve shrugged, his lips twitching into a shy smile. “I just wanted to do something nice for a friend, Buck. Nothing else.”

“I understand that, pal, I do, but seriously, I don’t need your help. I can manage by myself and I really don’t need you to start buying me expensive things.”

“Okay, hold up!” Stark stood up, grinning maniacally at them at this point. “First of all, who the hell is Buck?”

“I am.” Bucky crossed his arms again. “Middle name is Buchanan, hence Bucky as a nickname. Or Buck for Steve.”

“Aww, you already have your own pet names.”

“No, that’s not –”

“Second of all, are you pissed off because Steve bought you a Keurig?”

“It’s the best coffee maker there is,” Barton mumbled into his coffee pot.

“Sure, but maybe Buckeye here wants another brand. Hmm, I didn’t take this into consideration. Jarvis, please make a list with the best coffee makers a guy can buy these days. Let’s ensure that Buttercup here enjoys a good quality coffee cup.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No!” Bucky said quickly as he raised his hands in a defensive mode. “Please, enough with this nonsense. I don’t need another coffee maker. I’m happy with the one that Steve bought for me.”

“If you’re sure.” Stark winked at him. Actually _winked_ at him, Bucky thought hysterically.

“I’m positive.” Bucky was already exhausted by the whole turn of events. He looked back at Steve, bewildered and utterly confused. “Can you – um, Steve, can we please step out for a bit?”

“As you long as you promise not to yell at Cap.” And seriously, when did this guy move close enough to drape his arm around Steve’s shoulders. Despite the friendly tone, there was a threatening twinge underneath it all. Bucky seriously shouldn’t have bothered today. On his way here, it didn’t cross his mind that he was going to have to stop Stark from buying him a new coffee maker or get threatened by Hawkeye.

“He’s old enough to take care of himself,” Bucky snapped back, deciding that he wasn’t going to take any shit from a guy dressed in a purple t-shirt with _Hello Kitty_ sweats.

Barton grinned sharply. “Hmm, I like this guy, Steve! Go and let yourself be yelled at! You deserve it.” And gently shoved Steve towards Bucky. “It was nice meeting you, Bucky.”

“Yeah, Buckaroo, it was a pleasure and honor for you too, I’m sure.”

Stomping on his instinct to just flip them off, Bucky grumbled a _good to meet you_ , then walked out the room waiting for Steve to join him in the lobby. As soon as the door closed behind them, he turned to Steve and stared back at him.

“Look,” he sighed and passed his fingers through his hair again, “I know that it was a kind gesture and everything, but I don’t need you to splurge two hundred dollars or whatever that machine cost.” Bucky raised his hand to stop Steve from speaking when the other man opened his mouth. “I appreciate it, I do, but it doesn’t sit well with me. Also, it’s about my dignity too.”

“Dignity?” A deep frown sprung between Steve’s eyebrows.

“Remember what it was like? Trying to make ends meet? When all you had was the dignity and the pride of your hard work? When all you had were the things that you were able to make with your own hands or buy with your own money?”

Steve’s eyes widened, a small huff of breath escaping his lips. “I do remember.”

“Then you of all people should understand better than anyone else how this whole thing looked to me. I can buy things on my own. I can provide for my sisters.”

“I’m sorry, Buck. I swear I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not able to provide for your sisters. I honestly don’t understand how you jumped to this conclusion, but I absolutely didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t intend it like that, but it made me uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable but I assure you I only wanted to do something nice for you and for your sisters.” Steve winced, chagrined, his hands half-risen into an appeasing gesture. “You’ve been kind to me when I definitely didn’t deserve it. Also, I know how much coffee means to your family so I just thought of doing something nice for you.” They stared at each other, unable to look away. “You said it made you uncomfortable. Why?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Bucky, it matters. If you came all the way to the Tower to argue with me about this, it definitely matters. Just tell me why.”

“Because it reeked of too much guilt, okay? It’s like you’re trying to buy my forgiveness.” His anger had burst like a balloon, leaving him depleted, crooked little words that didn’t express fully what he had meant. Embarrassment burned hot and bitter at the back of his throat, as if he was somehow in the wrong. He couldn’t even look Steve in the eyes so he stared at a point past his right shoulder, the sharp silence suffocating and unbearable.

“I entered into your life as Captain America, but I want to stay in it as Steve Rogers,” Steve said. Bucky stared back at him, stunned, his jaw probably touching the floor. Steve widened his stance as if he was preparing to testify in front of Congress. “I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, Bucky. I’d never dare do that. You talked about dignity when all you have is your hard work; you talk about being a provider. I know what it’s like not to have or be all of that. I spent more years in my feeble body that in this goddamn creation.” Steve slapped his hand across his chest.

“Steve, I didn’t –”

“There’s nothing dignified about starving, Buck. Nothing! There was no dignity in being dirt poor and watching my mother go to work, doing double shifts over and over again because I was too weak to help. On occasion, she’d be so exhausted she’d actually fall asleep while eating. Do you know what this did to me? Can you even imagine?” Bucky shook his head in denial. In spite of his own personal tragedy, when his parents were alive, they had had quite a sheltered life.

“During those god-awful times, do you know what I would picture while I was stuck in bed with a fever, barely breathing? When all my body would hurt and seize like goddamn rusty coils? I kept on thinking about what I’d do if I ever got enough money. I’d make Mom retire early, buy her all the books that she wanted, all the wool that she could knit. I’d buy a thick woolly shawl for Mrs. Hoffa down the corridor so she wouldn’t freeze during the cold winter nights; I’d buy my friend Gilmore a new pair of boots so he wouldn’t stick his with tape as he worked down at the docks. Over and over again, I’d picture everything to the point I could almost see all those things in front of me. All the things I wanted to gift other people with.”

Steve took a step forward and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, his thumb pressing lightly into the hot skin, and Bucky couldn’t breathe with the gentleness of it. “Yeah, Buck, I remember. I remember _everything_. So I assure you that the coffee maker is coming from that place. From an attempt to do something nice for my friends. That’s it – nothing more. In no way did I ever want to buy your forgiveness. _That_? I want to earn it. By proving myself. But that’s a different matter altogether.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just my mind jumped straight to that morning and it snowballed from there until it just got uglier and uglier,” Bucky muttered as he rested his hand on Steve’s forearm, squeezing slightly. Unblemished skin and granite-like muscle and yet so easily hurt.

Steve’s shoulders sagged a little. “I don’t fault you that. I bulldozed my way into your life as this unyielding and merciless guy who wouldn’t listen to you and I get why it’s not easy for you to trust me or why your mind jumps straight away to the ugliest conclusion. I do. But Buck,” and Steve sucked in a shuddering breath, “I just want to be your friend.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re a person worth knowing. And I want to be known by you too. I think this is a friendship worth fighting for.”

They stared at each other in that halfway awkward hug, Steve’s touch grounding in a way few things were these days. Bucky took in this man that was a hero to many, a threat and enemy to others, a man that might have cost him everything, yet – he decided to go with his instinct. He gradually pulled his hand away, almost one finger at a time, then took a step back until Steve’s hand fell beside his body. Disappointment mixed with horrible hurt on Steve’s face.

Bucky took a deep breath. “There should be some ground rules.”

“Rules?” Steve stared back at him uncomprehendingly.

“Yes. Rule number one: no more buying expensive gifts. I will accept this Keurig now that I know the truth, but that’s it. I understand that you can afford them, but I don’t, so that’s that.”

“Not even on Christmas?” Realization began to dawn on Steve.

“Nope. We’ll set a fixed sum of money for that, one that we can both afford, and that’s a rule for the girls too,” Bucky replied. “Rule number two: we will always be honest with each other. If something is off limits or makes us uncomfortable, then we say it; equally, we’ll try to be truthful with each other. Rule number three: never ever ask Stark’s opinion or advice about me again.”

“Believe me, I learned this the hard way.”

“Rule number four is more for me: I’ll never presume that I know who you are just because I read about you in a book or based on what had previously happened between us.” Bucky nodded. “I’m sure we can figure out more as we go along. Do you agree with these rules?”

“Yes.” The resolve in that single word was more of an answer than anything else.

“Then – Hi, my name is James Barnes,” Bucky said with a smile, extending his hand, “but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Hi, my name is Steve Rogers.” His answering smile was luminous. “Nice to meet you.” They shook hands and it was glorious.

“Good to meet you too, pal. Do your friends have a nickname for you?”

“Just in a professional setting.”

"I’m sure I’ll think of one.”

“Okay.” Steve leaned against the wall next to the elevator, his arms crossed. “What about the girls? What did your sisters think? Were they mad at me?”

“No. They’re probably going to kill me when I return home because they love that Keurig.” Bucky scratched the back of his head. “They appreciated your kindness and they were happy thinking about all the coffee they could drink. But don’t forget rule number one next time, okay? No more expensive stuff, and they’re definitely included in the ban too.”

“Sure, Buck. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. Though I promise you, there was nothing nefarious behind my gesture other than just being helpful to a friend.”

“I get it. And I’m sorry I ambushed you at work and interrupted your meeting.” Bucky bit his bottom lip, glancing at the closed door. “I should not have done that.”

“Let’s just agree to forgive each other and call it even, okay?”

The sudden intimacy of their proximity dawned on Bucky, who looked past Steve’s shoulder, unable to find the right words again. The gentle rumble of Steve’s voice washed over him in soothing waves, a soft blush simmering softly under his skin. Bucky swallowed thickly then nodded, unable to come up with a clever remark when faced with Steve’s gentleness.

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis’ voice echoed in the lobby, surprising both of them. Something soft flickered on Steve’s face before he straightened up and Bucky scrubbed at his face, their faint amusement gone in an instant. “I am afraid Mr. Stark requests your presence if Mr. Barnes has finished yelling at you.” Oh, yeah, Bucky was never going to get used to a voice coming out of the ceiling.

“Sure, Jarvis. Please let Tony know I’ll be back in a second.” Steve smiled softly. “I have to go now, but I’ll speak to you soon, okay, Buck?”

“Sure, Steve.”

“Did you park far from the Tower?”

“No, a couple of blocks away.” Bucky’s blush intensified to the point where even his ears were burning. He called the elevator again just so he could have something else to do with his hands. “ Though I regret coming here like a storm, I’m glad that we cleared up a few things.”

“Me too.” Steve hesitated a little before adding, “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, but I’m glad that we had this conversation.”

“I know, pal, me too.” Bucky took a step back and waved like the dork that he was. “I’ll see you around okay. And apologize to Stark and Barton about messing up your meeting.”

“Sure. Bye, Buck,” Steve said, yet he didn’t move until the elevator pinged again, opened its doors, and helped Bucky hide his blush behind the metal doors, which closed soundlessly. He sighed as he stared at his blushing face in the distorted mirror of the shiny doors. This was definitely not how he imagined getting to spend his Saturday.

Three floors down and the elevator suddenly slowed down, then stopped and opened its doors. Bucky instantly tensed, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists in a second, shoulders rigid like planks. He swallowed thickly and inhaled sharply, a failed attempt at keeping his breathing even.

Seeing her there shouldn’t have come as a surprise but it still made him feel queasy the moment Black Widow noticed his presence and tilted her head slightly. If there was something that Bucky hated, it would have to be the way he couldn’t read the people he was interacting with. And Black Widow made an eloquent example of blankness that always unsettled him in such people. There was nothing curious or surprised in her tilt, there was nothing annoyed or impressed in the way she got in and pressed for five floors down.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes,” she finally greeted him as she positioned herself beside him. He gritted his teeth, although he appreciated the gesture: she wanted to appear neither threatening nor imposing, though she definitely seemed both.

“Ma’am,” was the only thing that could push past the abrupt tightness in his throat. Bucky watched the numbers lightning up like a drowning man looking for a lifesaver or a buoy during a storm. He was under no impression whatsoever that she would ask for forgiveness the way Steve did. Her claustrophobic presence made him press his fingers inside of his palms harder, the pain a safe anchor during this moment, the confusing storm raging inside of him smashing itself against his lips, trying to come out.

The elevator suddenly pinged and opened its doors to her desired floor; she stepped out without throwing another look at him. Bucky’s shoulders sagged in relief when the elevator doors closed again without another person walking in. Jesus Christ, he was certain that confronting her in a deadly battle would have turned lethal for him! That woman was a formidable foe, he was sure of that, and he was definitely not going to hold his breath while waiting for apologies from her part.

As soon as he reached the ground floor, he walked into the lobby, thanked the reception lady again and walked out of that building at a much lighter step than when he came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for your hard work and your support and listening to me whining about this damn chapter. All the mistakes left are mine and mine alone. :)


	6. In which Bucky had enough of heart-to-heart conversations

Saturday evening found Bucky enjoying a beer out with the guys. The bar was practically a hole in the wall but it was Darrell’s favorite hangout, so every once in a while they indulged his wishes and got some beers there. The wooden tops had stains and chips on their once pristine surfaces, the leather seats had seen better days, and the wooden floor turned sticky sooner or later with the number of drinks spilled on it. But the toilets were always clean and the beer was awesome; also, Marco, the owner and ever-present bartender, loved to serve his beer with salted pistachios or fresh pretzels, sometimes both at the same time.

The diffuse yellow lights above them did little to welcome new clientele, as it gave it a dangerous vibe and only the blue-collar folks around the area seemed to appreciate the slight edge that the bar had. In fact, the semi-obscurity of their surroundings conferred a certain anonymity and an intimate air that made Bucky comfortable enough to tell his friends the whole debacle with the coffee maker that morning and the subsequent trip to the Tower.

“So let me get this straight,” Darrell said as he leaned forward, sloshing his beer over the table. “Shit! Hold on!” He grabbed some tissues and wiped the table quickly then threw them in the now empty pretzel basket. “Are you telling me that Steve bought you a Keurig? _The_ Steve Rogers?”

“Shh!” Bucky hissed and looked around them to ensure that no one was paying attention to their conversation, then relaxed when he realized that they were perfectly ignored by the other clientele. Another clear advantage of coming to _The Empty Bottle_ \- everyone minded their goddamn business. “Yeah,” he said, returning his attention to Gabe and Darrell who watched him with various degrees of smugness or confusion, “he bought me one. And then I went and gave him a piece of my mind. At the Tower, with Stark and Barton present.” He groaned, hiding his face in his hands when Darrell burst out laughing.

“Jesus, this shit is too good! Seriously, brother, how the hell did you manage to do that? Actually, no, I don’t want to know. I just want footage of your face when you realized that he was not alone.”

“Let’s just say it wasn’t my finest moment.” Bucky played with the tag on the bottle. “Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

“He sure did, but that doesn’t make this any less funny.” Darrell brought his pint to his lips and took a generous gulp then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The point is that you actually went there, yelled at Steve Rogers for buying you a coffee machine, and then kept the damn thing nonetheless.”

“It’s not funny, Gabe.” Bucky scowled at his other friend. Gabe had been laughing at him for the past five minutes. The mirth actually made the guy wipe at his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabe managed to say in between chuckles. “It’s hilarious. I can picture you marching to the Tower, demanding to see Cap, and then finding yourself surrounded by Avengers. It’s goddamn ludicrous.”

“Okay, maybe it is. A little bit.” Bucky grabbed his beer and downed half of a bottle in one go. “Well, it was actually good that I went there. At least we got to have a discussion on it and set some ground rules for our friendship.”

“Rules, yeah, those are always good to have,” Gabe said and winked. “But let’s go back to the fact that Captain America bought you an apology Keurig. He couldn’t find the right flowers for _sorry to wrongfully accuse you_ so he decided to go for the next best thing, coffee.”

“Har har, you’re a comedy king, I’ll give you that.” Bucky tilted his bottle towards Gabe and then sighed. “It was definitely not an apology Keurig.”

“Oh yes, it was.” Darrell smiled like the Cheshire cat. “The guy apologized to you, he turned to you when he needed a friend, and now he’s buying you stuff to make your life easier. Sounds like an apology Keurig to me.”

“Jesus Christ, it wasn’t an apology Keurig! He just wanted to do something nice for me and for the girls. Besides, the girls love it!” In his defense, Bucky was telling the truth. “Was I supposed to take it away from them?”

“Oh, well, if _the girls_ love it,” Gabe said in between the chuckles. “I’m sure they offered you the perfect excuse to keep the damn thing.” He clinked his bottle against Darrell’s pint, then they both took another sip of their beers in between the chuckles.

“Look, we’re making fun of you, brother,” Darrell said after a while when the mirth dissipated from his eyes like fine mist on a sunny morning, “but it clearly made you uncomfortable, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to the Tower. Was it because that shit was expensive?”

“Partially. Also, because I’m only starting to know the guy.” Bucky wiped at his face and flagged their waitress for another beer. “But, like I told you, the conversation that we had made me understand his point of view. I appreciate the gesture, I do, but I didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of his financial means.”

“How about this then?” Gabe leaned closer to him to make sure he had all of Bucky’s attention. “From what you’ve told us, for him, it really was a genuine gesture of kindness and he sincerely didn’t ask for anything in return or perceive it as anything else, except as a gift to a friend. So treat it as such.”

“A gift for a friend.” Bucky scratched at his bearded cheek and relaxed even more.

Gabe glanced at Darrell, who just shrugged, then returned his gaze to Bucky. “Sometimes, people do nice things for one another without a hidden agenda. I know it’s hard to believe that, especially coming from a guy that did accuse you of sabotage or whatever, but something tells me he didn’t have a secret agenda. Maybe just pushing on you the idea that he was really sorry.”

“And if he did have a secret agenda, then let’s just say I know a guy,” Darrell added, “who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty with an Avenger.”

“You know a guy?” Bucky smirked, though a warmth spread through his veins, sweet and comforting. “What are we suddenly? The mob?”

“No, but these days everyone and their mother knows at least one vigilante,” Darrell said, hiding his mysterious grin behind his pint.

“Like that doesn’t sound ominous.” Bucky thanked the waitress that had just brought him another round and a fresh batch of pretzels then turned his attention to his friends. “I don’t know. I never imagined I’d personally meet an Avenger, much less become friends with one.”

“I guess I can understand where you’re coming from.” Gabe grabbed a pretzel and shoved it in his mouth. “But what I’m saying is that you have to allow yourself to get acquainted with who Steve Rogers is, allow yourself to know him and be friends with him. It’s okay to want that, Bucky.”

“Huh?”

“That was some deep shit, brother, I’ll give you that. So deep in fact that you scrambled this guy’s brains.” And before Bucky could react, Darrell ruffled his hair like he was a two-year-old. But he only smirked when confronted with Bucky’s annoyed _hey, watch it, asshole_ scowl, and raised his pint in Gabe’s honor and then took a swig.

“What I mean is,” Gabe grabbed another pretzel, “Captain America is one thing and Steve Rogers is another thing entirely. Captain America is the icon, the Avenger that saves us or _tries to_ on a regular basis. Steve Rogers is the man behind the icon, the soul of it, and just another guy at the end of the day. Sure, he can probably rip a tank in two, but I’m sure he’s just as awkward as us and has no clue how to behave with normal human beings since all his other friends are Avengers and whatnot.”

“Hence the expensive coffee maker,” Darrell tossed out as he grabbed a pretzel as well.

“Exactly. Didn’t you say that he had actually asked for Stark’s advice?” At Bucky’s slight nod, Gabe shrugged like _see, what can you do about it?_ “He probably thought it was absolutely normal. By his standards anyway. Can you even imagine what being friends with Tony Stark means? Or how much back pay the army owed the guy? It was basically like winning the lottery for him.”

“Okay, so perhaps I didn’t think about this aspect.” Bucky passed his fingers through his hair to get it back how it used to be before Darrell ruffled it.

“Well, you’ll have to.” Gabe finally leaned back and threw another pretzel into his mouth. “If you’re going to be friends with this guy, you’ll have to remember this: he’ll always have more money than you, afford things you could never afford. On top of that, he’s also a guy that knows all too well what abject poverty means, which, in turn, makes him all too willing to share all the money that he has now, forgetting that this might make some people feel uncomfortable.”

A disquieting sensation clawed at Bucky’s insides. He had been quick to anger that morning, easy to slip into his habitual self-defense strategy; but hadn’t considered the circumstances that could change his views on the thing. Bucky looked at the bottle in his hands. The image of Steve’s earnest eyes, the way he genuinely wanted to know and be friends with Bucky – the loneliness that Bucky had spotted behind the strong persona that Steve projected didn’t sit well with him either.

“Ah, there’s Andy,” Gabe said suddenly and waved. Bucky looked up from his beer and looked confusedly at his friends.

“I didn’t think that there was anyone else joining us.”

“It’s just Andy, my brother-in-law. You met before.”

“Yeah, yeah, Fourth of July you said.”

“Yeah.” The sudden jitter of Gabe’s knee didn’t bode well for Bucky, who narrowed his eyes at him. “He and Luke said they might stop by later on. So I guess it’s later on now.” And Gabe had the audacity to actually grin shamelessly as Bucky turned in his seat only to spot Luke following a taller guy with a familiar smile. Luke might have looked out of place in that bar, had he not been dressed in a thick-looking sweater, dark jeans, and some rough work boots. As soon as he noticed him, Luke smiled and gave them all a friendly wave.

 _Fuck!_ Bucky swung back to the table and glared at Darrell and Gabe, his hands grabbing the beer bottle tighter to the point of breaking it into pieces and taking a long drag to calm himself. Naturally, it didn’t work at all.

“What the hell, Gabe?” he hissed, glaring at his friend. He could see from the corner of his eye that the other men had stopped at the bar to ask for something to drink, offering him plenty of time to gripe at his friends.

“Look, Andy and Luke heard about our hangout and they just wanted to join us.” Gabe waved at him dissuasively. “Seriously, don’t read too much into it.”

“Don’t read too much into it?” Bucky repeated, his mouth slightly open. “Fuck, Gabe, I can recognize a setup from miles away.”

“Well, then good job that you didn’t recognize shit, because it’s most definitely not a setup.”

Bucky turned his scowl at Darrell, who raised his hands in defeat. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“The fuck you didn’t! But at least you could have given me a heads up!” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair just as Andy and Luke made their way to their table. Goddamn it! It was most definitely a goddamn setup! And Gabe was going to pay for this.

“Hey, guys!” Gabe smiled and stood up to shake hands with the new arrivals. Bucky took a long swig from his beer then turned to the other guys, hoping that his lips had enough strength to twitch into a resemblance of a smile. He must have done a pretty good job at it because Luke immediately smiled back at him and came closer. Double fuck!

What was wrong with people and their sudden interest in seeing him hitched?

“Hey, man,” he said politely at Luke. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Luke grabbed the chair beside Bucky and sat down a little closer than Bucky would normally expect a guy to sit. He peered through his lashes at Luke then quickly took a drag from his beer as Andy started telling them a story about what happened to one of their friends that only Gabe knew.

“I didn’t manage to speak with you this morning,” Luke said after a while, no longer paying attention to Andy’s story. “I hope everything was okay with your friend.”

“Huh?”

“The friend you had to rush to see this morning?”

“Oh yeah!” Bucky rubbed at his nape, trying to stomp on that sense of intimacy that sprung between them since Luke was closer than before. “Yeah, everything was sorted out! How about you? Saving another guy’s roof?”

“No, I had just two more appraisals, and then I went home.”

“Do you regularly work on Saturdays?”

“Yeah, a lot of times the people that need my services can’t be home for appraisals during the week so I try to do some of them on the weekends. But have a rule: I don’t ever work on Sundays.”

“Me neither.” Bucky took another sip from his beer. “So how long did it take you to start your own business?”

Luke began talking about business plans and loans and how he wasn’t sure whether his business would take off; but luckily, he had a supportive family and good workers, and soon enough, he had quite a few contracts under his belt. Bucky hummed in all the right places and asked the right questions but for the most part, he kept quiet as he listened to Luke. All the while praying that time would move faster.

An hour and another beer later, Bucky finally made his excuse to grab a smoke and went outside before anyone else could join him. As soon as he was outside, he took a deep breath as he moved to the side and pulled out a cigarette. The long drag that he took once it was lit up did nothing to soothe him. He leaned against the cold wall, the regret of not pulling his coat on washing over him. Marco had arranged a couple of ashtrays outside the bar and there were a few other people outside who needed their nicotine fix just like him or milling around, but other than getting a request for his lighter, people left him alone.

However, when he finished his first cigarette, he didn’t hurry to join the others inside so he pulled out another one, trying to savor this one more. He checked the time and wondered whether it would be too early to leave for home and forget this night ever existed.

“I think we might have been set up,” Luke’s voice came so out of the blue that Bucky startled badly enough to almost drop his cigarette. When he tilted his head to the left, Luke was standing a few steps away from him, Bucky’s jacket in his hands.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Bucky’s lips pressed against the butt of the cigarette and he shrugged. “My friends are nosy bastards.”

“I don’t mind.” Luke’s smile turned even more gentle and he gave him the jacket. Bucky gratefully grabbed it and pulled it on. “I did ask Andy how I could get in contact with you in a non-professional way.”

“Huh?”

“I was going to ask you out for a drink.”

“We’re grabbing drinks right now.”

“Just the two of us. Like on a date,” Luke added when it was clear that Bucky didn’t get the message. Didn’t get it or didn’t _want_ to get it? Bucky would have hated to answer that question. Why was he suddenly bothered by the fact that Luke wanted to date him? He sure as hell wasn’t bad looking. His green eyes were gorgeous, he had a good build, and on top of that a friendly smile. Competent. Polite. He checked a lot of items on Bucky’s list and yet – just the thought of going out on a date with the guy seemed an insurmountable feat for him.

“Um, thank you,” and when he spoke, his words came out slightly patronizing so he quickly cleared his throat as he winced at his own stupidity. Especially when Luke’s face fell. “Look, I’m sorry, but this isn’t the best time for me to date.”

“I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Huh?”

“In the sense of – is there someone else? Like your friend from this morning.”

“No, nothing like that.” Bucky flushed slightly. Well, the idea that he would ever get to date Steve Rogers was a preposterous idea. He thanked every saint in the Catholic canon for the fact that the street lights didn’t fully light their corner. “Definitely not. It’s just – I don’t date and I don’t think I should accept going out for a drink when I really don’t have any intention to –”

“It was just an offer for a drink, Bucky.” Luke’s lips spread into a thin smile. “Not a marriage proposal.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry but this isn’t the best time for me.” He stubbed the butt of his cigarette onto the ashtray and then shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll have to decline.” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek hard as he nodded towards the bar. “Can you please tell the guys that I had to leave earlier? They’ll understand.”

“Bucky, come on! You don’t have to leave,” Luke said, his hand reaching in a half-abandoned attempt to touch him. Bucky took a step back and Luke’s arm fell beside his body. “You don’t have to leave on my account. We’re cool, I didn’t get upset or anything.”

“It’s definitely not you, Luke.” Bucky winced again upon hearing his words. “Jesus, that sounds crappy, but I assure you that this is definitely not about your invitation. I just – I’m really tired and I had a full day.” Bucky could tell that Luke didn’t buy into his story but insisting too much on it would have made him sound like an asshole so Bucky could see the moment when he abandoned the idea of making him change his mind.

“If you’re sure,” Luke said, at last, a certain regret etched in the slight crumple of his lips.

“I’m positive.” Bucky shrugged. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

“Bucky, wait –” Luke pulled out a piece of paper, and Bucky seriously didn’t want to be here anymore. “In case you change your mind.” And with a careful move, as if he was afraid to startle him, Luke handed him that small piece of paper. Bucky bit back his tongue, his chest clenching painfully, but grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket.

“Thank you.” He offered him another smile. “It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.” Luke shrugged and looked back at the entrance of the bar. “I’ll let the guys know, okay?”

“Okay, thank you, Luke.” Bucky took another step back. “And for what is worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Take care, Bucky.”

“You too, Luke.”

And Bucky hightailed the hell out of there before one of the guys could join them outside or make him change his mind.

✧

His ride home had been shorter than he expected. The cab driver wasn’t one for mindless chatter and had kept the radio on for the duration of the trip, drowning their worries in soothing jazz sounds. For his part, Bucky had been more than happy to keep it to himself, staring out on the window at the city lights as they disappeared through the half-fogged window. He ignored Gabe’s threats to kick his ass into submission and Darrell’s curiosity about how he was feeling. The unease of what happened tonight had shaken him.

He leaned his head against the backrest and watched a drop of water curving its way onto the arid world of the window. If he was honest with himself, and Bucky did avoid this like the plague, he was unsettled by how much he didn’t want to date anyone. How much he didn’t – didn’t want _anything_ for himself. He had grown used to his routine, and the idea of suddenly letting anyone pierce through it – it was unthinkable. It was _terrifying_.

When he arrived at home, the TV was still on in the living room, so Becca was waiting for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, then took his coat off, trying to shake off the wrongness that kept scraping at his insides. He locked the door and put his keys in the bowl, careful of how much noise he made.

“So how was it?” Becca asked him as she casually leaned in against the wall and looked at him taking his shoes off. Bucky was startled so he just shrugged, avoiding looking at her. Something was off in her voice though and he wasn’t surprised to see the curious glint in her eyes when he finally stared up at her.

“It was fine.”

“That’s it? Fine?” Becca tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Her searching look was alarming as if he was trying to lie about something vital and she was unable to believe him. Suddenly, it hit him. _Becca knew_. She had known all along and that was why she had insisted on him going out with the guys tonight.

“Fuck, you knew?” he hissed, just to confirm, though he had already guessed the right answer.

“Okay, fine, I knew.”

“Goddamn it!” he said, mindful of the hour as he wandered into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Why? So that you could pull out of it at the last minute like you’ve done so many times before?”

“Look, Becca, I don’t need you or anyone else to fuck with my life.” He slammed the door of the fridge shut after he pulled out the orange juice just so he would have something to do with his hands. The whiplash of his entire day had begun to catch up with him, making him feel lightheaded and worn out.

“ _What life_?” Becca asked him incredulously. “What life are you talking about, Bucky, because I sure as hell don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Jesus Christ! Can you get off my back? You act like I’m suddenly leading the most awful life or something.”

“Seriously? _Seriously_? Because you are!” The words echoed in the dreadful silence of the room. Becca’s eyes were suspiciously liquid. It was clear that this whole discussion was veering on something uncomfortable for them both, so Bucky calmly pulled out a glass and poured himself some orange juice, afraid that he might say something that he would regret if he didn’t calm down.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Becca,” he said at last when their shuddering breaths didn’t tremble so much in the silence of the room. “I don’t know what it is that you see wrong, but let me assure you that I’m perfectly content with my life and your obsession with me suddenly dating is getting out of –”

“My obsession? _My obsession_? For being worried about you? It’s not an _obsession_. Bucky, look at you, you don’t have a life apart from us! You work two jobs, you take care of us, and then you crash in your bed and start all over the next day.” She wiped furiously at her eyes. “I tell you that we’re worried, you brush us off. I tell you that you should think about dating someone, you promise to think about it and then never do. It’s not about you being single, Bucky. It’s not about going on a date for the first time in four years. It’s about you brushing off every opportunity of letting someone get close to you.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Really? Then why didn’t you stay tonight? Why didn’t you take the opportunity to know Luke? Maybe you would have liked him or maybe you wouldn’t. But at least you would have tried. You had no obligations towards him, you were surrounded by your friends, they would have been the perfect buffer. Yet you stepped away. You came home.”

“Jesus, Becca, because I didn’t like the guy!

“Yes, you did. I saw how you talked to him and looked at him.”

“Can’t a guy be polite to another guy anymore without getting the third degree?”

“Just – if you’re going to keep lying to yourself, at least spare me this courtesy, okay?” Bucky actually flinched, spilling orange juice all over his hand. Becca pulled the cardigan around her tighter. It had been Ma’s a lifetime ago, grey with blue sleeves fraying at the edges. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear like she always did when she was nervous or upset. When she spoke again, her voice sounded concerned, “You have to start taking care of yourself as well, start giving yourself the opportunity to meet new people, even if you’re scared shitless. Because, God, Bucky – what’s going to happen to you, once we’re out of here?”

“What?” The question had come so out of the left-field that it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to actually grasp the meaning of it. When the sense of her words pierced through his self-righteous fury, they desecrated any form of the rationale and clawed at his chest with reckless abandon.

“Bucky, you don’t think that we're going to live here forever, right?” Becca’s voice turned softer. “Bunny graduates next year and she might end up at Cornell. Three more years and Bear will be off to college too. I don’t want to live here either for the rest of my life. I want to move to the city and make my own way into the world. What are you going to do then? All alone in this big house with the shadow of our parents looming over you.” Becca bit her lip and sucked in a shuddering breath, opening her mouth a few times, yet unable to pull out the things she wanted to say.

“Just say it.” Bucky set the glass down on the counter and took in her obvious distress. It wasn’t like she’d been lying – these were things that did cross his mind. He’d be thirty-one by then and already wary of how his life might turn. Keeping a house for the ghost of their parents, for who they might have been, for a home that the girls might need to come back to every once in a while. But not all the time. Not always.

“You use us as an excuse not to live, even if it’s just a little, and I don’t feel comfortable with giving you that.” Had an airplane crashed into their kitchen in that second, it wouldn’t have caused such wreckage in its wake.

“So what are you saying? That I’m too responsible all of a sudden? That –”

“You know very well that’s not what I’m saying at all! Stop being so stubborn!” Suddenly, Becca rushed to his side, only to grab Bucky by his arms, her fingers digging into the meat of his biceps, squeezing him tightly. “You take good care of us, Bucky. You’re a good brother. The best we’ve ever hoped for.” Her tears washed her cheeks in salty lines. “But we want you to listen to us when we tell you we’re worried. We want you to take us seriously, not just brush us off.”

“If it’s about the smoking, I can –”

“It’s not just about the smoking.” She shook her head, gripping him tighter still. “Though you smoke a lot and you should cut down. But it’s also about the long hours you work, about the fact that you won’t relent some of the chores that we could take over from you completely. It’s about the weight that you lost and the fact that you’re terrified to let anyone in. Other than us. Other than Gabe and Darrell and Dugan.”

“But I –” Bucky bit his bottom lip hard as he gently disentangled himself from Becca and carefully pulled her into a tight hug. “You girls are really that concerned?”

She nodded, hiding her tear-streaked face in his shoulder, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater at the back. “We worry about you. All the goddamn time. And you need to start taking better care of yourself. You set some money aside for us. Use it. Your life shouldn’t be just about work and your responsibilities to us – we’re big girls now, we can manage by ourselves every once in a while.”

“Becca.” Bucky bowed his head and leaned his cheek against the top of her head, sinking into the comfort of her love and concern for him. She’d always been more attuned to his moods and to how he perceived the world, though there had been a six-year difference between them. After the death of their parents, she had tried to pick up as much as she could on her seventeen-year-old shoulders and she had pushed him to request therapeutic help as part of the national counseling program that had been put in place by Stark and a few other well-meaning personalities. Even then, she had been concerned for him like Bucky too was going to waste away before her eyes.

“Are you arguing?”

Bucky looked up only to see Bunny and Bear standing hesitantly in the doorway. They looked so young – Bucky could see the fearless girl that Bunny was in her passionate nature, her drive to be the best; he could see Bear’s gentleness, her calm and sweet nature, her brilliance when it came to science. They watched them worriedly from the doorway, trying not to push, but clearly wanting to add their five cents in as well.

“No, we’re not,” Bucky answered at last, smiling. “If Becca and I argued, half the block would know. It’s the Irish in our blood.”

“Shut up, moron!” she mumbled into his shoulder. “We’re only a quarter Irish.”

“Enough if you asked me.” Bucky smiled down at her then extended a hand to the other girls and they quickly came by their side and joined in into a group hug that gave Bucky a new life. Their hands squeezed his shoulders or his waist and held onto him like he was their lifesaver and anchor, all wrapped up around him. “So you’re worried too?”

“Yeah,” Bear sighed the answer into his other shoulder. “You’re always tired, Bucky. And you lost weight.”

“And you smoke. Too much.” Bunny frowned at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She bit her lip. “Also, you protect us too much.”

“Huh?”

“Becca told us the truth this afternoon after you left in a hurry.” Bunny frowned harder. “We didn’t understand why you didn’t like the idea that Steve sent us the coffee maker. So we pestered her and she finally told us the truth.” She held him tighter. “We’re sorry, Bucky. We thought that Steve had been rude to you and came to apologize. That it might have been just a minor offense. Had you told us what had happened from the very beginning, things would have been very different.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he admitted sheepishly, caught too much by surprise to deny anything.

“Well, you should.” Bear pressed into his side harder too. “You worry about us but sometimes it feels like you don’t allow us to worry about _you_. And please, don’t tell us that it’s not our job because you’re our brother and we sure as hell should worry about you too.”

“If Becca gave you hell for worrying us,” Bunny pressed on, “then I’m glad. You had it coming.”

“No sympathy from you then, I guess.”

“Nope. None whatsoever.”

“We don’t want to lose you too, Bucky,” Bear admitted in a small voice. Her words lanced through Bucky, the pain almost physical in the way it clenched at his chest like a vice and wouldn’t let go. “You’re everything we’ve got left now.”

They were his sisters and his responsibilities and his pride and joy. As they held on to him, refusing to let go, even as his legs turned like jelly under their combined weight and their emotions, Bucky had never felt more alive and loved than at that moment.

The last time Bucky let himself cry had been at his parents’ funeral, spent and weak. He swallowed thickly, past the lump in his throat, past his fears and his insecurities and let himself cry for the first time in four years, embraced by his sisters and sinking into the depths of their love and affection.

✧

Sunday morning, Bucky woke up to the muffled sounds of TV in the living room shuffling all the way to his room in the quietness of the house. Bucky turned on his side and closed his eyes again, breathing in. The events from yesterday rushed to the fore of his consciousness as if jealous that he hadn’t been thinking about them throughout the night. Bucky groaned and buried his face deeper into the soft pillow.

The emotions from yesterday evening were unassuming in their rawness but that didn’t mean they didn’t lack the sort of shattering epiphany that one got every once in a while during their lifetime. The revelatory discussion he had with his sisters last night offered a new perspective over the current state of his life – but agreeing with it and knowing where to start rebuilding something were two separate things.

Bucky turned on his back again, his arms crossed at the back of his head, staring at the ceiling, hoping that its blank canvas could offer some resolutions. There were things that were under his control, that he could try and amend, like his smoking. Maybe gradually reduce the cigarettes until he’d stop completely. Trusting the girls with more chores around the house, relinquishing the control a little.

Maybe going out with his friends, calling Luke and asking for a second chance. Bucky swallowed hard, the prospect of going out with someone instantly turning his hands clammy and shaky. Yeah, nobody said it was going to be easy but he could try. Luke seemed like a decent guy, well, decent enough to have patience with Bucky getting slowly back in the game. He glanced at the piece of paper with Luke’s details, still on his nightstand, under his phone. It was worth a shot.

If not, worst came to worst, he could always try going out with Thiago – the older man was definitely going to offer a new perspective, even if it was going to end up as nothing more than an outing between friends.

But others? Giving up his second job was not going to be so easy. Yeah, he wasn’t happy with working seventy hours a week but the reality was that they did need that extra cash. He sighed. Well, the morning wasn’t going to offer him any resolutions or sudden financially-solvable plans that could cut off the hours.

He stood up and went to the bathroom, taking care of his daily ablutions before going downstairs into the kitchen where he frowned at the Keurig as if it personally insulted him. He was just about to yell at Bunny and ask how the hell he was supposed to use that monstrosity when he noticed the instruction manual was left right next to it. It made his eyebrow twitch. With a put upon sigh, Bucky grabbed his mug and began preparing his coffee, then made some toast and smeared it with tons of butter.

He grabbed his plate and his mug – he refused to admit that the wafting scent of coffee was mouthwatering – and went to join his sisters in the living room. Bear and Bunny were comfortably sprawled on their respective armchairs, watching cartoons with bowls of cereal in front of them, messy hair, and still clad in pyjamas. They sleepily mumbled a _g’morning_ at him.

Bucky propped his feet on the coffee table and practically inhaled half of his coffee mug. The girls watched him from the corners of their eyes but otherwise mentioned nothing. The heart-to-heart conversation was over, and now Bucky was aware that they expected an action plan from his part. Or at least some palpable efforts to make him less vulnerable in their eyes.

Bucky leaned forward to set his plate on the coffee table when, amongst the clutter on it, he spotted what looked like one of Bunny’s notebooks, opened to a page where she had written at some point _Operation Captain Shmuck_ , an array of frowny faces and flowers dispersed through the words. The dichotomy of it all made Bucky smile and he pointed at it with his plate.

“Care to tell me what this is about?”

Bunny scrambled immediately to pull the notebook out of Bucky’s way, blushing furiously. She pushed it under her pillow and refused to look at Bucky. “It’s something for school.”

“What? Did one of the boys act like a moron and now you girls plan on punishing him?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled but refused to look at him, and Bucky didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

Still, he needed to add, “You know, you can tell me if there’s a kid at school that causes you problems.”

Bunny groaned, throwing a quick glance at Bear as if begging for her help. “Nothing like that, Bucky, I promise. It’s just a thing between me and the girls, okay?”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Let me know if you need ideas though. Maybe I could help.” And he grinned wolfishly at her. He must have done a good job because she burst into a fit of giggles.

“I will.”

“So what’s the plan today?”

“I’m meeting Morgan in an hour,” Bunny replied and grimaced. Bucky raised an eyebrow at her and it was more than enough to convince her to spill the beans. “She called me yesterday afternoon. She wants to meet at Nicky’s and discuss everything over milkshakes.”

“That sounds promising.”

Bunny shrugged. “It can go either way with Morgan. Either she wants to meet me to tell me that our friendship is over and what a terrible friend I’ve been; or she wants to meet me so she can find out where I’m going to college so she can apply there too. I have no clue.”

Bucky studied her over his mug as Bunny pushed a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. Yeah, this whole nonchalance air wasn’t fooling him one bit. “But you’re hoping she’ll just say sorry and be your friend again.”

“I don’t know, I guess?” Bunny stared at the TV screen, although it was absolutely clear she didn’t pay attention to what was on either way. “I mean, the fact that she knew why it was important for me to remain on the East Coast and she still got upset doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You’ll have to figure it out whether you want to give her another chance.” Bucky kept the mug on his thigh and took in his sister. Becca’s words from last night reverberated through him; she was right (but then again there had been few occasions in which Becca hadn’t been right): times were changing and his sisters were growing up. He should consider listening to them more often.

“You’ll figure it out,” Bucky said confidently. Bunny looked back at him and offered him a shy smile in return. He smiled back, then took another sip of his coffee. “And you, Bear?”

His youngest sister stretched and hid a yawn behind the back of her palm. “If it’s okay with you, Tammy invited me to her house. We have the last season of that TV show I mentioned the other day to cover and her parents invited me for lunch.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll drop you off. What time do you have to be there?”

“Elevenish?” Bear checked her phone. “Yeah, eleven. Can we pick up some snacks on the way?”

“Sure.”

“What about you, Bucky?” Bunny asked, then grimaced as she drank the last dregs of her coffee.

“I think I’ll go and check out some books.” Bucky shrugged when he could feel his sisters’ judgemental eyes. “What? What would you have me do instead?”

“No, no,” Bunny waved him, “We have nothing against you going out of the house and doing something for yourself. It’s just,” and she glanced at the overfilled bookcase that adorned a whole wall, “do you really think we need more books?”

“We always need more books.”

“Yeah, right, then you’ll keep a whole stack on the nightstand and then slowly go through it.”

“But then, don’t forget,” Bear continued, “he’ll remember that he definitely wanted to check out another book and so he’ll compile another stack, forgetting about the one he had previously gone through. And _then_ , just when we think he’s right on track, he’ll see a movie about pirates or something and read for a whole month only pirate books.”

“Hey!”

“Remember the _Black Sails_ year?” Bunny mockingly whispered and then shuddered, making Bear giggle.

“I was in mourning!” Bucky huffed and crossed his arms, pouting. “They had just canceled the show. I watched one goddamn show – _one show –_ and they decided to cancel that one specifically. Of course, I had to read more books about pirates.”

“Bucky, we don’t blame you for that. You know, that’s why we have what we call fanfiction, you know? But when you choose to read even older volumes like Defoe’s one, you have a problem.”

“I didn’t read _that_ many.”

“You spewed facts about them for two whole months! Two whole months!”

“And then he began the _Master and Commander_ series.”

“I’m sorry, did you wake up this morning deciding to criticize my choices in reading?”

“Nope, but it’s definitely fun to do that.” Bunny winked and put her empty mug on the coffee table.

“I am grateful for it, though,” Bear pipped in. “Had it not been for you, I’m not sure how many books I would have finished for English class.” The pointed looks that she got from her siblings instantly made Bear roll her eyes. “ _Fine_ , I would have finished them because I like being knowledgeable, but it would have been ten times worse, had it not been for you reading them with me.”

“I didn’t mind.” Bucky shrugged and stood up, picking up his own empty bowl. “But I’ll have to stop at Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_. I can abide the historic plays, but the _Romeo and Juliet_ thingy? Nope.”

“But Mercutio!”

“He’s worth reading the play but only once!” The girls chuckled as he walked out and headed to the kitchen. He was just putting the plate and his mug in the sink when the phone rang. Without checking the ID, he answered with a rushed _hello_ as he turned on the water.

“Hi, Buck!” Steve’s gruff voice echoed at the other end of the line. Bucky blinked a few times, caught by surprise.

“Hi, Steve! How are you?” Bucky asked as he held the phone between his shoulder and face while washing the dishes.

“Good, good, just came back from the morning run.”

“Ewww,” Bucky scrunched up his nose, “that’s definitely something you won’t see me doing, especially on the only day of the week I have off.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” Steve’s chuckle was warm and tender. “But it’s good to blow off some extra energy that I have.”

“Also, since you’re a masochist, I assume you actually enjoy it.”

“Well, I do enjoy it but it’s definitely not because I’m a masochist. It’s about keeping healthy and fit, Buck. Something you wouldn’t know anything about, you know, with your smoking and everything.”

“Oh, personal attacks so early in the morning.” Bucky turned off the water and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, leaning against the counter. “Is there a purpose to your call or have you just called me to brag about your fitness prowess?”

Steve chuckled. “That’s a perk of our friendship that I didn’t take into consideration before. But no, I didn’t call you to brag about my fitness prowess. I actually wanted to see whether you’d like to hang out today – that is, if you don’t have other plans.”

“Um, I was actually going to check out a bookstore today.” Bucky bit his lip, happy that Steve couldn’t see his face.

“Oh.”

“You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

“That actually sounds good, Buck. I might as well use the opportunity to buy some books. Maybe you have a couple of recommendations for me.”

“Pal, we might have to stay there for the rest of the day.” Bucky smiled at Steve’s answering chuckles. “But I’d like that. I’ll text you the address.”

“Great. Want to grab lunch afterwards?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Bucky nodded for good measure and then wiped at his face when he realized just how stupid he must have looked. “See you around eleven thirty? I need to drop Bear to a friend’s house first.”

“Yeah, sure. See you later then.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Bucky hung up and stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, before leaving it on the counter. The idea of going out to meet with Steve and check out a used bookstore didn’t actually sound bad at all. So he went back to the living room and told the girls that he’d go and grab a shower, avoiding telling them that he’d see Steve as well.

There was only so much he could face today and his sisters’ interrogation was definitely not among the items checked on this imaginary list. It helped that Becca relished her late mornings so there weren’t many chances to meet her before leaving. Luckily, Bunny and Bear were still too sleepy to see the extra spring in his step or if they did, they didn’t comment upon it, which was more than enough for Bucky.

✧

By the time Bucky reached the bookstore, Steve was already inside, perusing the bookshelves under the not so subtle gaze of the bookseller. Bucky waved to Carlson, who blushed, a little embarrassed at being caught in the act, and then made a beeline for Steve. However, as soon as Bucky spotted the book that Steve was currently skimming through the summary of, he frowned.

“Put that thing down, Steve. I promise you that’s not a book you want to read right now.”

Steve looked up and smiled brightly when he spotted Bucky. Look, Bucky was man enough to admit that there was something quite appealing about Steve and his wide shoulders covered by that blue cable knit sweater like a clingy mistress. It didn’t help that the dark jeans underlined his well-defined thighs and that he basically looked like he had just descended from a fashion magazine. Not that Bucky had any experience with fashion magazines but if he ever had to imagine one, well, Steve Rogers would definitely be on the cover of it.

“Why? Have you read it?” Steve asked but listened to Bucky and put the book away.

“I did. My best advice is to read this book when you’re sure you’re in a good place. It left me in a funk for over a month and I promise you it was difficult to shake it off.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.” Bucky grinned and shook his hand. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Buck.” The smile was just as large. “Thank you for telling me about this place. It’s amazing.”

“Sure.”

 _Another World_ was amazing indeed. Ma had brought him here after Bucky complained again about the mandatory English readings he had to do for school. Even now he could still see her smile that day, the way her gentle hand guided him through rows and rows of books, the sweet musty scent of them, the way she let him peruse for hours, his small fingers tracing cover after cover, spine after bent spine, his lips moving silently as he took in each title, each word.

They had all been brought here time and time again by their parents, one of the few remaining independent bookstores in Flatbush, and the host of a lot of literary events that they tried to attend as much as they could. Sprawled on two floors, _Another World_ hosted tons of used books, some of the sections uncanny in the subject matter and the nature of the things that they covered; but there were also aisles of new books and writing paraphernalia, which had always fascinated Bucky. Not to mention that all its booksellers were knowledgeable and able to recommend tons of books that Bucky probably would have never been able to discover on his own.

“So do you have some recommendations for me then?” Steve’s lips curled into such a way that made Bucky understand immediately that he was equally teased and welcomed to recommend whatever his heart desired.

“Pal, you have no idea what you just did.” And this was how they spent the next two hours: debating authors and books, talking about scenes or stories that moved them, characters they had related to the most. Steve mentioned _The Hobbit_ and his obsession with everything related to Tolkien’s works when he returned, while Bucky talked about his fascination with Marilynne Robinson’s trilogy and his fear of small towns after reading a few of King’s novels.

By the time they made their way back to Carlson’s desk, they had managed to make an eclectic array of selections. Bucky went for a few thrillers and a volume of poetry, while Steve picked up two autobiographies, a few thrillers, an account of an Amazon expedition for a lost city, and a few books in Spanish that seemed to fascinate him.

Carlson stared at Steve in awe but, luckily, he didn’t ask what the hell an Avenger was doing on a Sunday morning in his bookstore, nor did he question Bucky about how the hell he got to accompany the said Avenger. He rang up their books, careful with each title, and took their money with little to no chatter.

“I have an idea about our lunch,” Steve said when they deposited the bags of books on the backseat of Bucky’s car. “That is if you don’t think it’s too cold for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know a good cafe a few blocks away. They make good sandwiches and their coffee is good. I thought of grabbing a few to go but having our lunch somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?”

“Yeah. Trust me, you’ll like the place.”

“Sure, why not?”

The cafe wasn’t far. A cold wind picked up a little, spoiling the sunny day, but the delicious smells wafting through the cafe made Bucky’s mouth water. He went for Steve’s recommendations and bought a couple of sandwiches with fresh bacon, egg, and pickles, adding in the mix a bit of mustard for his own pleasure. The coffee was freshly ground and its scent was enough to make Bucky want to live forever in that cafe.

They paid for their orders separately and Bucky would have lost himself in the nice atmosphere of the cafe, had Steve not pulled him carefully by the sleeve and forced him to face the cold air of the city once again.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” Steve mumbled when he was faced with Bucky’s frown. “It’s just a couple of blocks away.”

“Okay, let me pay for the parking for a couple of more hours. I don’t want to get a ticket.”

Steve nodded and waited for Bucky in front of the cafe as he went back to pay for more parking time. When he returned, he watched amused as people either gave him a wide berth or inconspicuously tried to make small talk with him. Whether they recognized him or he was just a handsome stranger to them, the pleasure of basking in a little anonymity seemed quite tempting to Steve.

Bucky would never admit to anyone, least of all to himself, how much he enjoyed being the target of Steve’s lit up smile, an unnamable warm feeling soaring inside of him.

“All done?” Steve asked gently; when Bucky nodded, Steve grabbed his wrist in a soft grip and pulled him into an adjacent alley. “This way then.”

Bucky hummed and followed him closely. He basked in their proximity, for even after Steve let go of his wrist, he kept close, their hands brushing every once in a while, their shoulders bumping now and then. How inconspicuous their closeness was and how comfortable it made him! For a man that just yesterday had imposed some strict rules to their interactions, Bucky now almost hummed in good humor.

“We’re here.” Steve turned to an iron gate left ajar and pushed slightly, keeping it open for Bucky to go through first. All of sudden, the tangible forest of the city, its branches of steel, concrete, and plexiglass greedy in their conquering of space, dissipated in this vibrant green space, a tiny forest in the middle of Brooklyn. Sycamore trees and elms spread on a tiny surface of hedges, grass, and flowers, a couple of benches hidden amongst them. Flanked on all sides by the high walls of the adjacent buildings, the lush space pressed against his senses, taking away the sounds of the city and letting its whispers spread around them.

There was just another person in that miraculous garden, a young mother who was reading, a child sleeping in a pram in front of her. Every once in a while, her eyes would glide over the child and she’d smile softly at them, her love unfaltering even for a stranger like Bucky.

When Steve spoke, his voice came out hesitant and low, “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.” Bucky turned to Steve and grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling at the blue wool like he was holding on to a lifebuoy. “I heard about such places around the city, but I didn’t actually think they existed. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Steve’s answering smile was luminous. There was no other way to describe it, and Bucky tucked it away for bad days when nothing would go right and he would have to remember that there were nice things in this world. It would be a cherished prize amongst Bear’s humming in the morning, Bunny’s smile when she managed to achieve something, and Becca’s kind eyes crinkling at the edges when she focused on something; Ma’s singing on sunny mornings and Dad’s _hey kiddo, how are ya?_

As he followed Steve to a bench right at the back of the garden, Bucky wondered whether Steve had such precious memories too, something to keep him going. Bucky glanced at the sliver of blue sky visible through the still leafy crowns of the trees. Steve had to have such moments, otherwise, what could have kept him together when he woke up after seventy years spent in ice?

“When did you discover this place?” Bucky asked as he took a generous bite from his sandwich, careful not to spill mustard and pickles all over his hands.

“I think it was a year or so after I bought my place.” Steve shrugged stared at the far wall on the opposite side, covered in wall creeper. “I used to roam at night, unable to sleep. Too much noise, too much light.” Steve shrugged and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was tough returning to a world that seemed equally familiar and foreign.”

The sense of loneliness that permeated Steve’s words pulled hard at Bucky’s heart. It sounded awfully familiar. “So you took walks at night?” he prodded when Steve fell quiet.

“Yeah, it would clear my mind.”

“It also allowed you to see more misery.”

“Probably.” Steve set his sandwich on the clean tissues between them, wiping at his fingers. “There might have been a few occasions in which I stopped a mugging or an attempted assault. But for the most part, the world fell into a peaceful slumber and I was able to take a walk without being stopped every five minutes to be told what a good or not so good job I did.”

Curiosity pushed behind his words, scrambling for any information about those moments but Bucky bit the inside of his cheek hard and then took another bite of his sandwich. “So you came upon this miracle one night.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve lit up again. “Isn’t it a miracle? I never thought such places existed. It wasn’t open to the public back then.”

“It wasn’t? So then how did you manage to convince the owner to open it to the public?”

“It wasn’t hard to persuade him.” Steve paid closer attention to the sandwich. “I just made sure there’s always a team to take care of the trees and flowers and maintain the place. It stays open until late at night.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, swallowing hard, “are you trying to tell me that you own the garden?”

“How’s that working for me?”

Bucky burst out laughing. This man was absolutely ridiculous. And he said as such, making Steve duck his head and blush slightly. Bucky bumped their shoulders and caught Steve’s gaze again. “Thank you for bringing me here, Steve. It’s really lovely.”

“You’re welcome.” Steve bumped their shoulders back, leaning oh so carefully against Bucky as if he was made of mere glass and porcelain. The warmth that soared and nestled inside of Bucky’s chest had nothing to do with the warmth slipping through layers of clothes.

“I wondered,” Bucky cleared his voice and took a sip of coffee before choosing his words carefully, “do you come here often?”

“Yes, every time I get the chance. I come to sketch or read. There’s always so much tranquility in here that sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m in New York City.”

“Yeah, it’s true.” Bucky looked around him. There was an elderly couple now sitting on the bench closer to them – they spoke in hushed tones as if not to disturb the uncanny peace, their hands clasped together between them. Bucky’s gaze returned to Steve who was unwrapping his second sandwich. “Do you paint a lot?”

Steve’s hands froze on the wrapper and his blue gaze met Bucky’s in a startling burst of surprise. “Yes, I do.” A much more perceptible blush spread on his cheeks and, so close, Bucky noticed with an amusing sense of vindication that Steve was an ugly blusher, his flush spreading in tiny splotches of red, naturally, all the more adorable. “But I wouldn’t call myself a painter.”

“You paint, don’t you? Then you _are_ a painter.” Bucky nodded decisively as if his sentence was definitive and irrevocable. “Who are your favorite artists?”

“Have you ever heard of Ivan Aivazovsky?” Bucky threw him an incredulous stare and Steve laughed out loud. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, of course, you do. God forbid Becca would ever let you roam uncultured into the world! Well, he’s one of my favorite painters. I could lose myself into his depictions of the sea. I could drown in his famous _The Ninth Wave_ painting. And now, knowing the unmovable force of water? I can guarantee that he definitely captured its impenetrable beauty.”

Bucky moved his hand on Steve’s forearm before he was even conscious of actually ordering his body to spring into action. The wool of the sweater did nothing to contain the remarkable warmth of Steve’s body, searing the pads of Bucky’s fingers as they pressed ahead, gripping it tight and anchoring.

“How much do you remember?” Bucky asked, stunned by his own question, yet unable to let go at the devastation that flooded Steve’s face.

“I remember _everything_.” The admission shattered between them like a guilty secret. Bucky dug his fingers harder into Steve’s muscles as if he could gather with his own hands all the bad memories and push them away from this man, throwing them asunder.

When Bucky opened mouth, what came out surprised them both. “Who else? What other artist inspired you?”

Steve took a deep breath and leaned further into Bucky’s touch. “Kandinsky, Van Gogh, Artemisia Gentileschi, Georgia O’Keefe, Kahlo – there are so many. There are so many paintings that along the years have spoken out to me, have reached to me.”

Bucky shrugged when Steve’s blue gaze turned to him again. “I’ll be honest, I know a lot about art because Ma was obsessed with it and Becca and Bunny are not far behind. Becca in particular has always appreciated art at a level that I could never reach. I mean, I could always stare at a painting but couldn’t wax poetic about the artist’s intention or whatever one sees in abstract paintings for instance.”

“But there are some that move you and you don’t need any explanation for that.”

“True.” Bucky remembered a trip at MOMA with Becca a few years back – MOMA had borrowed some of Van Gogh’s works from other museums across the world and had created an exhibition of his works. He remembered looking at his paintings in art albums or coming across them in popular culture and not telling him anything; they looked like simple pretty pictures that meant nothing. And yet – yet when he saw the first painting of Van Gogh’s famous sunflowers on that day, he had been moved to tears and had been unable to step away from it, long after Becca had moved on to other paintings. Still, he had sat there and taken in every detail, soaked in each brush and burst of yellow. He had never experienced something similar before or after. He told as much to Steve.

“I know what you mean. A couple of years after my um, return, Tony in association with MOMA, organized a celebratory exhibition of Kandinsky’s works – some the paintings have been borrowed from different museums or private owners. I don’t think I was able to talk to anyone that evening – throughout the night I just kept staring at all those amazing colors. _Composition VII, In Grey, Various Actions –_ I spent the following two weeks doing little else but studying those paintings."

“And you say you aren’t an artist.”

“It’s different with my art.” Steve shrugged and took the last bite of his sandwich. “I paint because I love painting but I don’t think my art would stand in a museum if I wasn’t – well, if I wasn’t also Captain America. My sketches and the few paintings that managed to survive the tribulations of war would have been lost to time or ignored.”

“I don’t think so.” Bucky took a sip from his coffee that was still warm and richly scented. “I’ve seen copies of your _Burst into Starlight –_ the colors you chose, the plays of shade and light. It always made me wish to see it in person.”

“Thank you, Buck.”

They stared at each other, the world disappearing in tiny blotches of green at the edges. Suddenly, Bucky became quite aware of the fact that he had never let go of Steve’s forearm and it took all in him to finally move his hand away. He cleared his voice and looked away, grabbing another sip of his now tepid coffee.

“What about you, Buck?” Steve asked softly and Bucky forced himself to look back at his new friend. “Have you always been keen on fixing things? A car brand that you’d like to have one day?”

“Oh, being a mechanic is nothing special. Anyone can be a mechanic.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve said and put all the remains of their feats in the paper bag, then offered his undivided attention to Bucky. “What is it that you love about it?”

Bucky drank the last dregs of his coffee then watched his hands. “What I love about it? I guess seeing the fruits of my labor, so to speak. Sometimes it’s about fixing an engine or different parts on the mechanical side; sometimes it’s about the bodyshop and everything related to it. Sometimes there’s not an easy solution and I can study an engine for days before realizing what the problem is; other times, I can tell by the noise a car or a bike makes where the problem lies. The satisfaction of seeing a job well done.” Bucky further ducked his head when he noticed Steve’s proud smile.

“And your other job?”

Bucky shrugged. “That’s mostly maintenance work. Dernier needed a maintenance guy that had a mechanic background but also a welder certification. Dugan recommended me and the rest was history.”

“So you have a welder certification as well?”

“Yeah, it’s good to have one.” Bucky played with the paper cup, pulling off its lid, then fixing it back. “I thought that perhaps I might start focusing more on customizing bikes at some point. I also like working with older or vintage models so that would help.”

“You’re really great, Buck.”

“I’m really not.” Bucky straightened his back and stretched a little. “Anyway, that’s what I planned on doing in the long term.”

“I think you underestimate the work you do, the hours that you put in, and the value of your work.” Steve shrugged when Bucky turned a sharp eye to him. “I’ve seen your work on my Harley. Not many could produce such impeccable work. But if you had the possibility to study or work on something, what would that be?”

“The renewable energy-based engine that Stark was showing you yesterday.” Bucky grinned sharply at Steve’s surprised look. “Yeah, the holographic schemata were a bit difficult to understand at a simple glance, but I guess it would do wonders for common transport in the long run.”

“And you say you’re nothing special,” Steve said and smiled wryly.

“It helps that I work for Dernier – he’s currently collaborating with Stark Industries on a series of projects related to renewable energy so it wasn’t difficult to figure that one out.” Bucky looked at his watch then back up at Steve. “Sorry to cut this short but I have to pick up Bear soon. Also, I did promise the girls I’d cook chicken frittata today.”

“They finally cornered you, didn’t they?”

“Some blackmail might have been involved.” Bucky grinned and grabbed the paper cup and the remains of his sandwiches and Steve did the same. “Thank you for bringing me here,” Bucky said as they made their way out of the garden. “We should do this again before winter settles in.”

“I’d like that.”

“Do you want me to drop you off home?”

“No, thank you. This place isn’t far.”

As they walked out of the garden, the iron gate closing with a soft squeak of its hinges, Bucky pulled his jacket tighter to his body and walked beside Steve in companionable silence towards his car. The melancholy of a Sunday afternoon was now gnawing at his mind and he was actually regretful to see this hang out coming to an end. But he couldn't find the necessary words to articulate that to Steve so he kept silent. And if he watched the shape of Steve in his rearview mirror longer than was strictly necessary, well, there was no one with him to know. Not that he paid attention to it anyway – there were other things on his mind. Or so he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for your amazing beta work and for reading different versions of this chapter. <33 All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> A few notes on this chapter: 
> 
> 1) Yes, I mourned the cancellation of _Black Sails_ so, naturally, I read extensively on pirates (I promise you don't want to know how extensively). Anyway, books!!! Am I right? Yes, they have to be dorks about this too. Also, art nerds because why not? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, this and the following chapter are the longest, 11k each O_O
> 
> 2) Who's ready for _Operation Captain Shmuck_? ヽ(´▽`)/


	7. In which a plan begins to unfold

Bucky managed to dodge his friends on Monday. It helped that work was busy and they barely had time for their lunch break. He couldn’t point out exactly why he’d been avoiding Darrell and Gabe so much – he’d texted them over the weekend and he wasn’t upset with them either. However, his discussion with his sisters had dominated his thoughts much of the time, and even his hang out with Steve hadn’t managed to take his mind off things.

However, by Tuesday afternoon, his luck had run out. Surprisingly enough, it was Darrell, who cornered him during lunch break.

“Are you trying to hide from us, brother?” Darrell’s voice startled him so bad that Bucky almost dropped his half-smoked cigarette. He looked up at his friend and grimaced. Naturally, that didn’t deter Darrell from fitting his long frame in between the used tires and Bucky, his coffee sloshing dangerously in his chipped mug.

“I’m not hiding,” Bucky mumbled as he took another drag of his cigarette, making small circles of smoke float in front of them. “I just have a lot of things on my mind.”

Darrell hummed agreeably and took a sip of his coffee. The downcast clouds threatened to lower themselves over the world and push their domain onto them. The wind had picked up throughout the morning, but in between used tires and the carcass of an old Chevy, they were quite protected from the worst of autumn’s reign.

“What kind of things?”

“Huh?” Bucky glanced at him, taken a little aback when he realized that Darrell was staring at him intensely. Bucky shrugged. “Just things.”

“Look, I’m not Gabe,” Darrell said when it was clear that Bucky wasn’t going to add anything else. “I’m definitely not good at talking about all this emotional shit. But you hightailed on Saturday like your house was on fire and you barely spoke with us ever since. You’re either upset with us for what happened on Saturday, or something else happened during the weekend that has upset you. So what’s eating you?”

Bucky grimaced again and pushed his fingers through his hair, his cigarette almost gone between his lips. “I’m not upset with what happened on Saturday, though I admit I didn’t like the fact that you guys did that. But,” Bucky pushed the butt of his cigarette into the ground beneath them with a vengeance, “after I came home, I had a discussion with Becca – well, with my sisters – and they said some stuff that stayed with me.”

“Like what things?” Darrell bumped his shoulder against his, careful not to push Bucky too hard into the metal at his side. “Come on, we have time! Tell me, what things?”

“Becca was angry with me that I left early. Said a bunch of things like I don’t have a life and I don’t take care of myself, that I should quit my second job and start going out with people. Bear and Bunny basically said the same thing.”

“And what do you think?”

“That they’re right but I have no clue where to start.” Bucky bit his lip hard and looked up at the grey sky. “It could be easy with some of the things they said but others – I don’t know.” He looked sideways at Darrell, “Do you think they’re right?”

“Well, look at it this way: since I got hired here three years ago, you went through three different sizes on your uniform, each one smaller than the last. That says a lot about it, doesn’t it?”

“Three? Really?”

“Yeah. This year I think it was the first time you wore the same size. But I do remember that the last time you changed sizes, Dugan almost threw a fit. This shit must have hit hard. You know he sees you as his own child.”

Bucky nodded and swallowed hard past his sudden tense throat. He’d been so busy with taking care of everything that he didn’t even realize that he had lost so much weight. Yeah, maybe the hoodies were a bit larger than usual on him, and yeah, he had to buy a couple of pairs of jeans a few times, but he had been wearing the same clothes for the most part.

“No one is going to fault you if you have a bit of life, brother,” Darrell said suddenly, his voice rough and gentle. Bucky whipped his head around at him but Darrell stared in the distance. “You’re taking care of your family, we all got that, but you need to take better care of yourself too. They can’t be safe if you put yourself in an early grave, can they?”

Bucky shuddered and pushed his fingers through his hair, leaving them there, just so he could pull harder. “I don’t know where to start,” he confessed in a tiny voice.

“Well, I’m no self-help guru, I’ll tell you that. This shit ain’t easy to figure out. But small steps, brother. That’s all you’ve got to do. Small steps.” Darrell wrapped his arm around Bucky and pulled him closer to him. “Also, maybe fuck every once in a while too. That Luke guy sure seemed willing to.”

“Fuck off!” Bucky huffed and pushed at Darrell. His friend burst out laughing as his shoulder hit the used tires. Luckily, he had just finished his coffee so there was nothing to spill.

“I’m just saying, Bucky, can’t be easy being in relationship with your right hand.”

“Shut the hell up! I’m not talking about this shit with you!” He stood up, dusting off, then offered Darrell a helping hand and pulled him up, ignoring his sharp grin.

“Come on! Tell daddy Darrell what has been bothering you!”

“Eww, never use that phrase ever again! You’ll traumatize me for life.” Darrell grabbed him by the shoulders and made kissy noises at him as they made their way back into the garage. “Enough, you animal! I’m not _that_ desperate.”

“You’d thank your lucky stars if you had me in your bed.” Darrell puckered his lips as he squeezed Bucky’s shoulders. “Who wouldn’t want to have a piece of this?”

“Dugan,” Bucky shouted when he spotted his boss by his station, “Darrell is harassing me. Tell him to stop or I’ll sue!”

“You’ll sue, my ass!” Dugan replied promptly as he rolled his eyes at them. “Now, if you two chuckleheads have had enough of this shit, Harlan called and said he wants you to have a look at another bike he recently bought. And you,” and he pointed at Darrell, “go back to work and finish that truck.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” They saluted like in the military and then giggled like a bunch of two-year-olds.

Dugan flipped them off as he returned to his office, all the while mumbling something about _firing your asses_ , _see how that would make you giggle_ , which naturally, made them laugh harder still. Nonetheless, Bucky clapped Darrell on his shoulder in silent thanks, feeling a little lighter than he’d been for the past two days.

✧

Bear was home alone when Bucky returned from work. He wanted to go to Trader Joe’s to grab some stuff but he knew that he didn’t have the patience to go food shopping during rush hour, so he decided to come home, grab a shower and eat before going back out.

It always struck Bucky as incredibly odd to hear his house so peaceful and quiet, just the clock in the living room chiming every now and then. Ma had found it at an antiques market in Connecticut when she attended a course there a few years before her death. She’d always loved the little house painted on the face of the clock, promising Dad that one day they’d get a fancy little house back in Indiana and retire there. It had been a beautiful dream – a shot of regret speared through his chest as he took his coat off. His parents had had so many dreams – for their children, for themselves – constant and supportive in all their children had wanted to pursue. Yet to live now in a world where they would never get to see the girls graduate and become the women they were destined to be still hurt, agonizingly so.

Bear was doing her homework at the kitchen table again. She smiled at him across her books and Bucky kissed the top of her head, his hand gently curling over her shoulder.

“Hey, Bucky!” she greeted him and leaned against his chest for a moment. “You’re home early.”

“Hey, kiddo!” His youngest sister blushed profusely in delight, a fond memory washing over both of them – it had been his dad’s favorite greeting. “Yeah, thought I’d grab something to eat and a shower before heading back out for some shopping. You?”

“Just finishing my History homework.” Bear pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Becca left an hour ago for class, and Bunny is at a study session with Morgan.”

“Yeah, she sent me a text about it. Things seem to be going pretty well between them now.” Bucky went to the fridge and examined its contents, quickly scribbling some other items on his shopping list. Might as well make sure he didn’t forget to buy something important.

“I’m not sure.” Bear shrugged when Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her before focusing on his list again. They were almost out of milk as well, and some extra eggs wouldn’t hurt. “I think they’re taking it slow.”

“Well, if she’s at Morgan’s place, I think it says a lot. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone there. You know how Bunny is.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Bucky nodded and poured a glass of orange juice, drinking it in one go. Morgan lived with her mom and her brother in an apartment building a couple of blocks away from their house – Bucky had dropped and picked Bunny up from there more times than he could count. They’d become best friends since middle school and nothing changed ever since. Well, until they talked about college options, apparently.

“Want to come shopping with me?” he asked Bear when he noticed that she was just putting everything aside.

“Yeah, sure. Trader Joe’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we grab a tub of ice cream? We’re really low on the chocolate chip one.”

“Sure.” Bucky rubbed his hands together. “Okay then. I’m going to go grab a quick shower, change my clothes and then we can go.” He was almost out of the kitchen when his stomach growled and reminded him that he needed to eat as well. “Can you please make me a sandwich?”

Bear smiled softly and nodded for good measure. “Sure, Bucky.”

“Thank you.”

He grabbed a shower in record time and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a thick green sweater. Grabbing his wallet, he went downstairs where Bear was already waiting for him, a sandwich wrapped carefully in a bit of tissue so he could wolf it down on their way to the supermarket. He grinned at her in thanks and they both put their coats on before walking out of the house, carefully locking up the front door. Bucky shot a quick text to Bunny and Becca to let them know where they were and then they were off.

So, an hour later, they were at Trader Joe’s and almost done with the shopping. It was an easy enough affair, not many people out food shopping at that hour. It also helped that they didn’t stray from the list – two pairs of eyes and hands-on-deck were definitely better than one. Bucky sent Bear to grab a box of cereal while he debated which rice would go best with his kung po chicken tomorrow.

He was just about to say _fuck it_ and just pick one kind when Bear abruptly came back, an air of urgency surrounding her, holding the cereal box to her chest like a cartoonish shield.

“Bucky, there’s a man in the cereal aisle!” she spoke quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth like rocks caught in a landslide. “I think he needs help.”

“What do you mean?” he asked but he’d already thrown the pack of rice into his trolley and moved towards her.

Bear put the cereal box in the shopping cart, then pulled at his sleeve. “Please, can you come? He’s just sitting there, completely vacant. He also has a service dog, I think, but it doesn't seem to help. Please, hurry!”

“It’s okay, Bear, I’m coming!”

Bucky didn’t know what he had expected when Bear mentioned the man but he sure as hell didn’t expect to see none other than Clint Barton in the cereal aisle at Trader Joe’s. He was staring at the Kellogg boxes, his hand halfway towards the shelf, a box of cereal in his hand. He was dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a green hoodie, his purple t-shirt unmistakable underneath it. His feet were naked and wearing flip flops and had it not been for his frozen and frankly utterly blank face, Bucky would have laughed at the whole affair because Clint’s sense of fashion was utterly ridiculous.

A Golden Retriever was calmly sitting by his side, softly whining every now and then, as if he was hurt or didn’t know what the hell was wrong with his master.

Bucky looked around them but there was absolutely no one on the aisle, relief flooding his chest. He wasn’t sure how happy other people would have been to see a bona fide Avenger having a breakdown or whatever the fuck was going on in the cereal aisle at Trader Joe’s of all places.

Bucky parked the shopping cart on the side, a flimsy shield to make potential customers coming their way to give them a wide berth. Bear petted the dog who was clearly distressed and watched as Bucky took a step closer to Clint. A sudden gasp echoed around them, Bucky blinking several times before realizing it had been him all along. Only now, he also noticed the purple hearing aids that Clint was sporting so he sent a quick prayer upstairs, hoping that they weren’t turned off and that the man would be able to hear them.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky murmured at last, keeping his voice soft and level. Bear stood up and made a move to touch the man’s shoulder, but Bucky quickly shook his head to signal that any touch would be unwelcome. “Hey, buddy,” Bucky looked down at the dog, who tilted his head with pleading eyes as if begging him to help his master. “You must be the famous Lucky that Steve mentioned a couple of times.”

Using gentle and slow moves, Bucky grabbed the cereal box that Clint still held in his hand and put it back on the shelf. “Hey, Clint,” he spoke softly as if he was dealing with a wild animal about to attack. Bear’s urgency made so much more sense now that Bucky could finally take in the Avenger. Clint’s eyes were vacant as if someone had snuffed out all the life in him. The vivacious guy from last Saturday was nowhere to be seen, his entire body a rigid line of muscles and sinews.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky repeated for lack of a better expression, not sure what to do at all. “If you can listen to my voice, that would be great. I’m Bucky, Steve’s friend from last Saturday. Remember me?” When Barton said nothing, Bucky continued in the same tone, “This is Sarah, my sister, but we all call her Bear because she loves gummy bears a lot.”

“Hi, Mr. Clint,” Bear greeted shyly, her hands wringing, unsure of what else she could say. Bless her heart, Bucky thought, for taking in stride the fact that her brother knew another goddamn Avenger.

“There’s also Lucky with us.” The dog gently licked Clint’s right hand, whining softly, as if able to comprehend the distress in which his master found himself in. The man’s fingers twitched and Bucky let Lucky continue his administrations as he kept on going. “We’re at Trader Joe’s. Can you listen to the music? Whoever’s the DJ tonight, they’re not doing a good job.” Another twitch of his hand then nothing.

“Okay,” Bucky murmured as he pulled Bunny closer to him. His sister immediately stepped into his side, glancing at the man still frozen in the cereal aisle. “We need to speak with him to try and bring him back. Keep your voice gentle. I’m going to call Steve and ask for his help.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Bear glanced at Clint, clearly distressed that they couldn’t do much for him.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, this is way beyond our capabilities.” Bucky pushed his fingers through his hair then pulled hard. “I’m going to call Steve and see what he says. Please, you just gently talk to him.”

“Okay, okay.”

He squeezed her shoulders one more time then let her step closer to the other man while he took three steps to the right, flanking him. As Bear began talking about how much they wanted a dog when they were little and how their parents never thought that was a good idea, Bucky pulled out his phone and quickly found Steve’s name.

The phone rang and rang and rang but no answer. “Fuck!” he hissed under his breath as he checked for his sister to make sure she was alright. If Clint was about to have a sudden outburst of violence, Bucky was strategically positioned so as to intervene immediately. It would take Barton more than a couple of steps to reach her but it still didn’t sit well with him to have Bear in such a difficult position.

The phone rang a few times before it suddenly cut off. Bucky bit his lip and called again; two rings later, Steve’s hushed voice could be heard, other more tense voices in the background.

“Buck, I can’t talk right now,” Steve harshly whispered. “I’m in the middle of –”

“Steve, I need help!” The urgency in his voice must have arrested any other complaint that Steve might have had.

“What happened?” When the voice came back on the other end of the line, Bucky found himself suddenly talking to Captain America, curt and straight to the point.

“I’m at my local Trader Joe’s with Bear, and we found Clint frozen in the cereal aisle. Lucky is here as well. He seems okay, no physical wounds, but he’s non-responsive to his name or other stimuli, utterly blank. We don’t know what to do.”

“Any other customers around? Staff?”

“No customers,” Bucky confirmed like a good soldier. “And no staff either.”

“Have you managed to get a word out of him?”

“No, none. We’ve been talking to him, trying to get him anchored in the moment. Lucky is licking his hand. I don’t know how much that helps.”

“Trust me, it helps a lot.” A harsh sigh. “Fuck! He hasn’t had one of these episodes in so long, I thought they were gone. Something must have triggered it. Okay, you and Bear are safe. He’s never violent during these occasions if he suddenly comes around. You did good talking to him. You did really good.” Steve’s voice disappeared suddenly, though Bucky could hear a rapid exchange of words between him and somebody else.

“Buck, you’re still there?” Steve asked when he returned to their conversation.

“I’m here.” He checked Clint and he could see the slightly more relaxed line of his shoulders.

“Okay, Nat is coming your way. ETA twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Bucky repeated, willfully choosing to ignore the way his whole body tensed when he heard who the hell was going to come and pick Clint up.

“Yeah, she was grabbing a few things from my place. She should be with you shortly. I gotta go, Buck.” And it sounded like it physically pained him to say that. “I’m about to go on a mission. But thank you. Thank you for taking care of Clint and for calling me.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Bucky’s stomach had plummeted to the lowest of lows. “Stay safe!”

“I’ll do my best.” Steve’s wry smile must have been a thing of beauty even if Bucky couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Send me a text to know you’re okay,” Bucky said quickly, as if Steve was about to hang out on him without a promise to ever speak to him again. “When you finish the mission, I mean,” Bucky added, digging his own grave but unable to stop his words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“I will.” Why did his voice sound so wistful? “I’ll speak to you later, Buck. And thank you for looking after my friend.”

_Anything_. The word came unbidden and Bucky almost slapped himself. “Sure, Steve, later.”

He hung up and focused on Clint again. “Hey, Clint, just to let you know, I’ve spoken with Steve and Roma –” Bucky faltered for a hot second, “I mean, Nat is going to be here soon. I’m sure you’re happy to hear that.”

Bucky didn’t know what else to say, so he remained silent after that. Bear took one long look at him, then shrugged and continued her chat about their neighbor’s dog, even though it was one-sided and, clearly, Clint wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Bucky pulled in a shuddering breath and stepped a little closer, not close enough to consider it as looming, but close enough to be a silent and warm support to Clint. Perhaps the warmth of his body, Lucky’s wet kisses on his hand, Bear’s lovely voice, everything could anchor Clint sooner or later.

Bucky had never been a guy to be glad for small things in his life but, sitting in the cereal aisle, with no people milling around, was heaven. He wondered whether he should have notified someone on the staff about what was going on, but he was afraid to leave Bear alone with Clint; sending her to explain a rather sensitive matter didn’t sit well with him either. In the end, he ran his fingers through his hair and joined Bear in telling a story about their neighbor, Mr. Sullivan, the one with the dog. A man that kept mostly to himself, but he had been the one to lend a helping hand to Bucky the first time something broke in the house and Bucky didn’t know how to fix it.

“So you see,” Bucky said towards the end of the story, “he didn’t say more than ten words to me but –”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, I’ll take it from here.” The smooth voice washed over him like one giant wave meant to drown everything in its wake. Bucky turned slightly and saw Natasha Romanov carefully approaching Clint, Lucky already wagging his tail, ecstatic to see her.

“Is he going to be okay?” Bear asked, clearly intimidated to be in the presence of such a woman like Black Widow, someone that she’d seen only on TV or newspapers. Briefly, those granite eyes fused with a little more warmth as they took in his little sister.

“Yes, he will be,” Romanov answered, accepting a little wet kiss from Lucky. “I promise I will take care of him.” She must have intended for those words to come out as soothing and reassuring, but they rang as an old vow that she had sworn a long time ago and had decided that it bore repeating every now and then.

There wasn’t anything else to add, their presence not required anymore if Bucky was to judge by the way she turned her back on them. So he wrapped his arm around Bear’s shoulders as he grabbed the shopping cart with his other hand and steered them away from the two Avengers.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Bear asked again as soon as they were out of the earshot. She held onto Bucky’s arm, though the position must have been a little uncomfortable for her.

“Yeah, I think he will.” Bucky checked to see which of the cashiers was freer. They started to unload all the things from the shopping cart, glancing around every so often to see whether they could catch a glimpse of Clint and Romanov.

“Did she ever apologize?” Bear asked after a while. Bucky sharply turned to her, but his younger sister seemed rather studiously checking out the ingredients on the baked beans cans they got.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Only Steve?”

“Yeah, only Steve.”

“Do you think she will ever apologize?” Bear finally looked up at Bucky, leaning against the shopping cart as they waited for the queue to move a little. Her eyes were curious, but there was a note of stubbornness, a genetic trait for the Barnes siblings. She was pushing for an answer and an honest answer at that, not just some platitude to soothe her.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and pulled a little as he watched the band move a little, the customer ahead of them putting the products away as if he wasn’t in the slightest hurry. This was a question that he had asked himself, different scenarios playing out in his mind. But then it didn’t matter anymore and he told as much to Bear.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

“It simply doesn’t. I think she considered the right thing to do at the time. She took action and followed intel and it’s nice that I wasn’t the guilty party, but someone else was. Someone else did threaten the safety of her friend.” Bucky glanced past Bear’s shoulder and looked ahead at the nearly empty aisles. “I think there’s no point in waiting for an apology from her. She doesn’t seem like a woman willing to say _sorry_ anyway.”

“Well, I’d like one,” Bear huffed and she crossed her arms. She would have looked kind of funny, had it not been for the stubborn jut of her chin and the way her eyes narrowed as if she was about to march back to Black Widow and give her a piece of her mind.

Bucky sunk in the depth of his love for her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a short but tight hug. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” she promptly replied, “though I don’t see what that has got to do with it.”

“It just does.” Bucky smiled at her then finally stepped in front of the cashier, who began to scan their products. Bear mumbled under her breath something but didn’t say anything else and helped Bucky bag their shopping.

They were just putting the last bag in the trunk when a nondescript SUV stopped by their car, the window to the driver seat down and revealing Romanov, her mouth pinched tight, eyes hard. Bucky caught a glimpse of Clint sitting in the passenger seat, his head tilted towards the window, looking like he was sleeping.

Bucky took a step towards the SUV, standing between the car and Bear. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Romanov nodded curtly. “Thank you for calling Steve and for taking care of Clint.” Each word seemed to be painfully pulled out of her mouth. Had he had the inclination to do so, Bucky would have laughed, for Natasha Romanov was clearly not a person inclined to give thanks and whatnot. However, there was nothing funny in her crumpled mouth, in Clint’s vacant stare, in the way Lucky’s head popped up now and then, whining softly.

Bucky nodded back. “Have a nice evening, ma’am!”

“You too, Mr. Barnes!” She pulled the window up and drove away, without much ado.

“She’s scary,” Bear mumbled and Bucky turned to her, his fingers curling around her shoulders.

“Yeah, she can be.” He kissed her gently on her forehead. “How about you? You’ve been incredibly brave tonight. How do you feel?”

Bear bit her lip, taking her time to think. “It was scary, I’m not going to lie, but I’m glad that we were the ones to find and help him.”

“Me too, Bear.” Bucky hugged his sister hard. “Ready to go home now?”

“I was ready an hour ago.” She giggled when he flicked her nose. “Let’s go home! I can’t wait to tell the girls! They will freak out.”

“They surely will.”

Bear got in the car and Bucky went to return the shopping cart, then got in the car and drove away. All the while, Bucky’s thoughts swirled away in a jumbled mess – he kept on wondering if something like this ever happened to Steve as well, whether he had had someone to help him and look after him. His hands clutched the steering wheel into a white-knuckled grip the whole drive home. He wondered if anyone waited for Steve to come back home, safe and sound, after a mission. He ignored the fact that something hot burned inside his chest, craving to be that person. It wouldn’t have made sense.

✧

Bucky glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand as he got out of the shower. In between telling Becca and Bunny their adventure – Bunny moaning about missing interesting stuff happening because of study (yeah, that didn’t make sense to Bucky either), Becca being grateful they’d been there to help – and putting away the food they bought, eating dinner and exchanging gossip, Bucky had barely had the time to breathe before, finally, everyone retired to their own room.

He quickly went downstairs to make sure everything was locked up or switched off, then returned back to his bedroom, yawning and hearing each bone creaking alarmingly. He got in bed, pulling the covers over him and checking his phone, scrolling through Instagram (boring!). He was just about to call it a night when there was a soft knock on the door before it opened to reveal Bear’s messy hair and sheepish smile.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle. She shook her head then quickly made her way to his bed where he had already pulled up the covers, letting his sister settle on the empty half of the bed, her head almost disappearing in his fluffy pillows (Bucky loved his pillows, yeah? So sue him!). “Are you okay?” he prodded and switched to his side, his hands under his cheek.

Bear offered him a one-shouldered shrug and then came a little closer to him, turning on her side as well. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

“Clint?” Bucky smiled a little. “Yeah, I think he’s going to be okay. He has a good support system and, by the looks of it, Romanov would rather see the world burn to the ground than let anything happen to that guy. Or to Lucky by the looks of it.”

“How did you meet him?” Bear’s eyes were sharp like tack.

Bucky groaned. “Oh, this is a story that I definitely didn’t want to tell anyone else. I might have gone to the Tower to yell at Steve after he bought us the Keurig and I might have, just might have met Tony Stark and Clint.”

“You met Tony Stark?” Bear’s squeal must have been heard by at least a couple of neighbors. “Sorry, sorry,” she said and covered her mouth to hide her giggles when he playfully frowned at her. “Didn’t mean to! But you met Tony Stark and you didn’t tell me?”

“It was just briefly. For a hot minute, during which he found countless nicknames for me and wanted to buy an even more expensive coffee maker.”

“And you must have been less than impressed.” Bear chuckled when Bucky simply rolled his eyes, enough of an answer if his sister even needed one at that. Then her face turned a little more serious. “Why weren’t you happy with Steve getting us a coffee maker?”

“Didn’t feel right,” Bucky decided to go for honesty. “It was like he was trying to buy my forgiveness or something. Not to mention, we barely know the guy. I just didn’t feel comfortable with it and I don’t want you girls to be comfortable with getting stuff like that from people that are practically strangers.”

“Had it not been from Steve, I wouldn’t have been comfortable either. I think none of the girls would have been, Bucky.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “You taught us well. You did a good job so don’t worry so much about it. You can count on us to make the right choices. Ma drilled that in us as well.”

The light feeling that spread its wings inside of his chest was warm and fuzzy. “I’m glad to hear that.” Then his voice turned more serious, “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s not like you to be up at this hour.”

Bear offered him another shrug. “I don’t know. I guess it rattled me a little seeing Clint like that. It reminded me of all the nightmares that I had after Mom and Dad and how I didn’t want to speak in the beginning. How the words were hard to find.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, holding her in a light embrace, her forehead touching his chest. Nightmares and selective muteness had been Bear’s ways to cope with the loss of their parents. Bucky’s had been insomnia and constant anxiety; Becca’s had been overwhelming care of them, and Bunny’s had been speaking less and less and painting the walls of her room over and over again. In the beginning, the thought of losing their parents mixed painfully with the agonizing hope that they might be found alive amongst the rubble and the debris. Then came the agony of their death being confirmed.

It had been the hardest year of Bucky and his sisters’ life.

“You know you can always come to me to speak about anything, right?” Bucky mumbled into her hair as one of her hands grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled him closer. “No matter what, I’ll always be here for you. Whenever you feel comfortable talking. About anything.”

“I know,” she replied into his chest. “When I saw Clint like that, the first thing that crossed my mind was that you would know what to do, you’d make it better.” She rubbed her forehead against the soft material of his t-shirt. “I know you’re always there for us, Bucky. And I know we don’t say this a lot and that the other day we might have ambushed you, but we love you very much.”

“I know, kiddo.” Bucky kissed the crown of her head again, ignoring the stinging sensation in his eyes. Another moment to keep close to his heart; its beautiful tendrils could power his soul for the next one hundred years. “And I love you too.”

“Duh.” Her chuckle came out wet. Another moment of silence, then a confession whispered hesitantly, “I think – I think I’m a little angry at Steve for what he did to you.”

“I was angry too.” Bucky’s confession made Bear pull back a little but she still held on tightly to his t-shirt. “But mostly just scared. Scared of losing you girls, of not being able to be there for you.”

“You should have told us the truth.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Now I understand that I should have been more honest with you.”

“And you promise not to do it again?”

“I think now you’re over-stretching it.” They both chuckled and Bear let go of him, making herself a little more comfortable. “But it’s natural to be angry at Steve. Just because a person apologizes, that doesn’t mean you owe them your forgiveness. It is up to you how you react to someone doing a bad thing and then apologizing, and whatever that way might be know that it’s valid.”

“Then why did you forgive him?”

Bucky shuffled a little, fussing with the covers. “It’s a good question.” He remained quiet as Bear stared back at him, innocent patience sparkling in her eyes. “You know how some people apologize because they have to but not necessarily because they want to?” At Bear’s nod, he added, “Steve’s accusation rattled me too, but I appreciated his honest effort of seeking my forgiveness, the fact that what he had done genuinely bothered him. To me, _that_ , more than anything else, made me understand that he was a man that would not only apologize but would also try to improve his behavior, would try to make it right in the future. But that’s just me. Everyone can react differently.”

Bear nodded in understanding. “So it would have been just as valid to slam the door in his face.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yes, just as valid.”

“I wonder how he would have reacted if you had done that.”

“Knowing what I’ve learned about the guy so far, I would say that he would have written me a long heartfelt letter or bought a page in _The New York Times_ to say sorry.”

Bear smiled. “Or written it in the sky.”

“Yeah, that’s a good one; half of New York wondering just who the hell that Bucky guy is.”

Bear huffed, amused. “I’m glad that he came to apologize. I’m just sorry we didn’t give him more of a hard time for that though.”

“Oh? Like asking what his intentions are and whatnot?”

“Or interrogating him and making him grovel.” Bear chuckled and stood up, pushing the covers aside.

“Is this because you’re currently reading Shakespeare?”

“Be glad we aren’t studying _Macbeth_. We would have given him a run for his money.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m more than grateful for that little fact.” Bucky stood up as well as he watched his sister. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I am now.” Bear ran her fingers through her hair and smiled.

Bucky leaned against the headboard and crossed his arms, smiling wryly. “And here I thought that we were going to have a nice conversation about that Santi kid.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she huffed and opened the door, her blush visible even in the diffuse light.

“Of course you don’t.”

“G’night, Bucky,” she sing-songed.

“G’night,” he replied to an already closed door. He chuckled then shuffled down in his bed again, switching off the light. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

✧

Bucky didn’t hear anything from Steve for the next couple of days. So he was stunned when he was about to leave the auto shop to grab something quick to eat before going to his second job, only to find Steve leaning against his car, a paper bag and two coffee cups in his hands, a wonderful rueful smile spreading on his lips.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Bucky said instead of _hello_ and thanked his lucky stars that Darrell and Gabe were busy with their work, otherwise he wouldn’t hear the end of this. He grinned at Steve, unable to stop the warm feeling curling inside his chest at the sight of him.

“it gets better.” Steve raised the paper bag a little. “I have a couple of sandwiches from that place we went to last Sunday. Coffee too.”

“Marry me!” Bucky tossed out as he got a whiff of those delicious sandwiches. He couldn’t even bother looking embarrassed at this point as he made grabby hands for his own cup of coffee. Steve handed him one with a beautiful smile.

“Sure, I’ll take care of the paperwork,” Steve said with mock-seriousness. “Say, next week? You take care of the suits, I’ll take care of the rings?”

“Sounds good to me, pal,” Bucky tossed back, blushing just a little. He peered through his eyelashes at Steve. “Make sure you bring some sandwiches though.”

“To ensure you show up?”

“You know it, pal. I do deserve the best and you don’t want to cause an elopement before the wedding.” Bucky grinned and clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It’s good to see you back safe and sound. When did you return?”

“This morning.” Steve’s smile was just as wide. “Thought I’d surprise you on your way to your second job. Make sure you eat something too.”

“Steve, this was your best idea today.” Bucky took one sip of his coffee and checked the time. “I have about twenty minutes to spare. There’s a small park about five minutes away from here. Wanna go there? Then I’ll drive you back here to pick up your bike or whatever you came by.”

“Wherever you want, Buck.” Steve shuffled on his feet. “I grabbed a cab here, didn’t want to draw too much attention to me. So I can keep you company on your way to work and I’ll call a cab there to pick me up? If that’s okay with you.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

They got in the car, Bucky secretly pleased that he had parked his car behind Darrell’s truck. They made small talk as Bucky drove them to the aforementioned park and found a parking space close to it. Ten minutes later, he was digging in the sandwiches with much gusto.

“So how’s Clint?” Bucky asked, wiping at the corner of his mouth, where he could feel mustard still clinging on. He must have made a sound that wasn’t exactly fit for decent company if he was to judge by the slight flush that spread on Steve’s cheeks.

“He’s all right. He actually asked me to give him your phone number so he could thank you and Bear for what you did for him.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have to.”

“I know he doesn’t have to, but he’s grateful.” Steve took a sip from his coffee. “I’m glad that you were able to be there for him. What a small world this is!”

“Tell me about it! Apparently every superhero and their mother chose to live in Brooklyn.” Bucky playfully bumped his shoulder against Steve. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve smiled that little smile of his, that bloomed at the corner of his full lips, a private little thing that warmed Bucky each time he saw it. “The mission wasn’t as bad as the last one. We were able to help more.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Bucky took another bite of his sandwich. “Has – um, has anything similar to what Clint experienced happened to you too?”

Steve shrugged as he followed the path of a falling leaf. Suddenly, a weary sense of unease appeared to wrap around his shoulders, dragging them further with its invisible weight. Bucky bit his lip, the regret of asking the question piercing through him like a well-aimed projectile. He opened his mouth to apologize, ready to say that the question had been intrusive at the very least and it was none of his business.

But Steve spoke first, “Yes.” He looked down at his hands, his fingers gripping the paper cup tightly. “I did get through a war, after all. Then there was the drowning. People think that after I crashed that plane, I instantly blacked out. But that wasn’t the case and – um, I’m sorry, I’m not comfortable talking about this.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Bucky hurried to say and grabbed his forearm, squeezing lightly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It was not my place. I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I asked.”

“It’s okay, Buck.” When Bucky shook his head in denial, Steve carried on, “I promise it’s fine. I actually – since the last time we spoke about this sort of thing, I decided that it was time to see someone again.”

“See someone?”

“A therapist. One of those recommended by Sam. She’s a fierce lady and she doesn’t take my bullshit so I think I’ll be okay.”

“I’m glad.” Bucky squeezed his forearm one more time before letting him go. He finished his first sandwich in companionable silence, though Steve’s little confession scraped raw at his insides. Bucky had thought that he knew what the deal with Steve Rogers was, thus breaking his own rule: never assume something about Steve, just because he read about him, just because his trauma had been in the public eye as well.

“I’m glad you came back safe and sound,” Bucky confessed in the small space between them. His soft voice startled Steve a little, but his shoulders drooped, his body a lithe line of relaxed muscles again. “Also, thank you for the sandwiches. And the coffee. Just thank you for showing up.”

Steve looked at him, his eyes a blue summer storm, opening his mouth a little, unsure whether he should speak. But no sound left his lips and shaking his head a little, he gently reached for Bucky, cupping his cheek. Steve’s thick fingers curled slightly at the back of his head as his thumb drew invisible circles on Bucky’s cheekbone.

Suddenly breathless, Bucky felt arrested in the moment, the warmth of that hand on his body searing and grounding. A soft sort of warmth uncoiled down in his belly, his lips stretching into a hesitant smile. His breath came a little faster as he slowly put his hand over Steve’s, light and unsure. The need to turn his head a little and kiss into that wide palm burnt inside his chest, overwhelming and raw, leaving Bucky confused. How come this simple moment could expand into what looked like eternity? He would have gladly remained anchored into that warmth, bright and raw as it was, much longer. There was no fear. Just tranquility.

“You’re welcome,” Steve spoke at last and, turning his hand, he twined his fingers with Bucky’s, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Bucky felt suddenly bereft, so he quickly looked down at his sandwich, afraid of what Steve might read on his face. The moment stretched on further, the silence not uncomfortable, yet melancholic in its texture.

“What about Bear?” Steve asked gently. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled against another mouthful of pickle, bacon, and egg. “She’s okay. Said that she was glad that we were there for Clint.”

“I was glad too.” Steve sighed next to him and knocked their knees together. Bucky looked up at Steve offered him a little intimate smile. “You’re a knight in shining armor.”

“In stained uniform most likely.” Bucky chuckled and looked down at his hands with their perpetual grime, the brown cargo pants that kept getting stained with grease and coolant gel. Compared to Steve’s pristine jeans, Bucky looked basically like the grease monkey some people had accused him of being.

“You’re a good man, Bucky,” Steve said, solemn and real, and Bucky huffed a laugh because the declaration sounded too honest.

“Is that why you keep buying me sandwiches?”

“Well, to be fair, this is the first time I’m buying sandwiches for you.” Steve grinned.

“I need to take you to this Russian hole in the wall that I discovered a few years back.” Bucky finished his sandwich and leaned back against the backrest of the bench, rubbing his stomach. “You’ll definitely enjoy their food.”

“Is the one with the red table cloths and those weird-looking vases?”

“You’ve been there? Those vases are giving me the creeps.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Clint actually brought me there. I think it had something to do with celebrating scaring off some Russian guys from his building. Good food though.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I heard all about Clint and his Russian foes.”

“Huh?”

“Dugan’s brother lives in the building that Clint owns now. So we got some intel on that, so to say.”

“I see. Well, we should go together one of these days. Their cabbage broth is to die for.”

“Ewww, cabbage!” Bucky made a face that had Steve laughing at him. “We should go for their beef stew, you heathen.”

“Yeah, that one’s good, I’ll give you that.”

“I know, right? Also, they make that awesome potato bread. I think their cook must have sold his soul to the kitchen gods or something to make that bread taste so good.”

“Enough of that or I might have to go there by myself after I drop you off to work.”

“None of that, pal.” Bucky bumped their shoulders. “We’ll go together. See what else they have on their menu. Maybe order some dessert too, ‘cause I never got the chance to do that. Darrell always gets so jittery around that place.”

“Should we try it this weekend?”

“Let me check with the girls first and see what their plans are, then I’ll let you know.”

“Sure.” Despite the reassurance though, a flick of disappointment flashed on Steve’s face. Bucky took the last sip of his coffee; then again, it might have been just his imagination. He checked his watch and groaned when he noticed that he was going to be ten minutes late if they didn’t get a move on. “Have to go?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, otherwise, I won’t get there on time.” They stood up and threw everything in the trash can close to the bench, then made their way to the car. “Thank you for this, Steve,” Bucky said, suddenly shy for some reason. “I really appreciate it.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, Buck.” Steve clapped him on the back, keeping the touch light. “I’m just happy that someone else appreciates these sandwiches. Clint says they give him stomach pain, and Sam didn’t even bother to taste them.”

“So, basically, you’re using me as a lab rat?”

“Something like that.”

“The marriage is off then.”

“Oh no, whatever am I going to do now?” Steve brought his hand to his chest, wounded air and all. “However, I did notice something, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh? Do tell, Mr. Rogers!”

“You haven’t had a smoke throughout the whole time we spent here. What gives?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose, making Steve chuckle again. “The girls said that I need to take better care of myself, you know, eat healthier, cut down on smoking, maybe have a life of my own. So I’m trying to cut down on cigarettes. And let me tell you, it’s not easy at all.”

“Well, you do have to take better care of yourself,” Steve added his five cents to the conversation as they got inside the car.

“Har har, pot meet kettle.”

“What do you mean, Buck? I’m a paragon of taking care of my own person, being responsible with my choices.”

“I’ve never thought I’d hear so much bullshit coming out of your mouth. You’re a paragon of something alright, pal.”

“Yeah, that marriage thing is definitely off. Personal attacks are never a good basis for a marriage.”

“I called it off first, you punk.”

“Well, I’m calling it off second, you jerk.”

They kept a light banter for the rest of the drive, which was much too short for Bucky’s taste. Peeking from the corner of his eye at Steve’s relaxed form, the soft curve of his lips, the smoothness of his brows, Bucky wondered whether this was something that Steve had needed as much as Bucky, in which case he was happy he could offer that.

It wouldn’t bother him at all to be the friend waiting for Steve to arrive home safe and sound, although Bucky wasn’t going to examine the reasons why that was. He looked briefly at him again. It was good to have another friend, that as all.

✧

Bucky had just finished his shift on Saturday afternoon when his phone rang. He ran to the car as rain pelted everything around him then checked the caller id, a smile blooming on his face when he saw Steve’s name.

“If you’re calling me about hanging out in that garden of yours, I’m sorry to say I draw the line at rain,” Bucky said instead of _hello_. He was pleased about the small chuckle that could be heard on the other end of the line.

“Well, hello to you too, Buck. How am I? Why, I’m fine, thank you for asking. What about you?”

“Well, I’m fine as well. Thank you for asking.” Bucky laughed softly and watched the rain wash away the dust on his windscreen, casting the whole world in a distorted image of its own. “So what can I do for you on this beautiful Saturday afternoon?”

“Beautiful, my ass. It’s raining cats and dogs, Buck,” Steve grumbled like a five-year-old.

“Beautiful your ass?” Bucky grinned sharply. “Now I don’t know where you come from, pal, but we don’t use that kind of language around here.”

“You’re a little shit today, Buck, you know that?”

“Pal, you can use a lot of words to describe me, but I guarantee you _little_ ain’t one of them.” Then, as soon as he finished, Bucky wanted to shove those words back into his mouth. In fact, he blushed so heavily that he almost suffocated under its sudden warmth. He face-palmed, embarrassment prickling under his skin, scorching and unbearable.

Steve made a strangled sound, probably just as mortified as Bucky was, and he opened his mouth, ready to apologize when Steve murmured, “I’ll try and remember that, jerk.”

“Thank you, punk.” Bucky took the chance at changing the subject with both hands and embraced it whole-heartedly. “So not a fan of rain?”

“Not if I have to get out of the house.”

“And I thought you Avengers are used to weathering this sort of weather. See what I did here?”

“Never again will you ever be able to call me a dork.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, pal.”

“This fake innocence really doesn’t suit you.”

“I think it suits me just fine.” Bucky grinned, looking out on the window, the car getting a little warmer now that the heater was on. The parking lot was empty, the heavy rain keeping everyone at bay. It’d been a slow day, and Bucky had been grateful for it. He relaxed further into his seat. “So what’s up?” He prodded when the silence at the other end of the line lengthened further.

“Nothing much.”

“Steve.”

Bucky could hear him swallowing hard before saying in a softer tone, “The reason why I called was to cordially invite you and your sisters for dinner. At my place. Tomorrow evening.”

“Um, okay.” Bucky scrubbed at his face. “What brought this on?” Another moment of silence, this time slightly more tense than the previous one. “Steve? What’s going on?”

“Okay. Here’s the thing: we promised we would always be honest with each other. So I’m following the rules, here, Buck.” Steve’s voice rumbled in his ear, gravely and thick like honey. “But you have to listen first, okay?” Hearing Bucky’s hesitant hum, Steve followed with, “Yesterday afternoon, I met with your sisters.”

“What the hell?” Shock spread through him like the echo of an elastic band that had snapped.

“What did I just say? You have to listen before you get mad. Can you do that?”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Please, Buck.” Steve’s warm voice washed over Bucky in one gentle wave.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a deep breath before nodding. Then realizing this was kind of dumb, he mumbled, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead. Tell me.”

“Becca called me on Thursday evening and –”

“Becca has your number as well?”

“I think they might have stolen it from your phone.” Bucky shook his head in dismay but let Steve carry on speaking. “Anyway, it’s not important how they got my number. What is important is that they asked me to meet them on Friday evening. Which I did.”

“What did they want?”

“Mostly, to make me understand just how upset they were with me since they found out the way I came into your life. Becca knew about it from what I gathered, but Bunny and Bear – well, let’s just say they ripped me a new one.”

“Sorry.” The thinness of his smile was almost palpable.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I deserved it. They told me that I had a lot to make up for so they gave me a list of demands.”

“A list of demands?”

“To let me be your friend. And I think by extension, theirs. I’m not sure. Your sisters were scary enough that I didn’t ask for further clarification. They could give Nat a run for her money.” Bucky shuddered at the thought of Widow’s blank face and her granite eyes – his sisters were far from having this sort of effect on anyone. Then again, they were obstinate and uncompromising when it came to protecting each other so maybe that wasn’t exactly an exaggeration. Still, to go and threaten Captain America like that on his behalf… Bucky suddenly smiled. That took guts and he loved them for it.

“So what does that list of demands comprise?”

“That’s for me to comply with and for your sisters to know. It’s not your damn business.”

“Steve, what do you mean it’s not my goddamn business? They made it so you could be my friend. Of course, it’s my damn business!”

“Your business is to accept the invitation.”

“Invitation to what?”

“To dinner.” Bucky could almost see Steve’s face of intense concentration, the way his eyebrows would furrow and he would purse his lips a little as if he was about to find out the mysteries of the universe. He would look slightly ridiculous and yet strangely endearing. “Buck, would you please come over for dinner tomorrow evening? I would also like to extend this invitation to your sisters as well.”

“It sounds awfully formal.”

“That’s not a yes, Buck.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky whispered, touched by the whole exchange. “Thank you for your invitation. I’d love to. And I’m sure that the girls would love to come as well, especially since you’re holding up your end of the bargain.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Steve,” Bucky swallowed hard, his fingers playing with a piece of rubber unstuck from the steering wheel. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“I actually do. I said that you’re a person well worth getting to know and part of you is always going to be defined by your sisters. I want to get to know them as well. They are your family.” Steve’s warmth somehow made it across the line. “They love you very much, Buck. You should be proud of them.”

“I am. Thank you for that.”

“I think,” Steve sounded off and a little choked up, “I think you’re worth it.”

Something warm and heavy settled inside his chest, pressing against his heart and ribs like stubborn fluttering wings. Bucky stared ahead, blinking rapidly against the stinging sensation. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve cleared his voice. “So tomorrow at six?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good. Now go and enjoy your afternoon. And no yelling at the girls.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

Steve chuckled. “I think you can. See you tomorrow, Buck.”

“See you tomorrow, Steve.”

Bucky hung up and then set his phone in the console, before starting the engine and getting out of the parking lot. His mind was whirling with thoughts and questions about what occurred between Steve and the girls and what they might have told him. They’d been sneaky and clever about it, not giving any details. Not to mention how stunned he had been to find out they’d stolen Steve’s number from his phone.

He’d been so caught up by the whole puzzling situation that he didn’t even realize when he got home.

“Just who the hell had the bright idea to have _that_ conversation with Steve?” he asked as soon as he made his way into the living room, startling the hell out of his sisters. Bunny was at her sewing machine, clearly caught up in redesigning what looked like a hand-sewn velvet bag. Bear was watching something on her laptop and Becca was lounging on the couch, reading a book that she almost dropped due to his abrupt entrance.

“What the hell, Bucky?” Unsurprisingly, it was Becca who was the first one to recover. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Don’t change the subject, Becca! What the hell were you girls thinking when you met with Steve?”

“I didn’t think anything. It was all their idea.” She casually waved at Bunny and Bear, who didn’t even have the decency to look chagrined. On the contrary, they appeared to be unperturbed by his outburst – honestly, he was quite impressed by their attitude, but he didn’t want to set a trend here.

“Well?” Twin sets of stubborn blue eyes watched him impassively.

“Well what?” Bunny huffed, glancing at him over the sewing machine, her hands still and expectant. “You should have known better than to hide things from us. And now you have to deal with the consequences. Steve wants to be your friend? Perfect. Then he can deal with all of us giving him the third degree.”

“Yeah, I understand that. I think. But seriously, girls, that was all clarified and –”

“Well, it wasn’t clarified with us,” Bear tossed her five cents into the conversation. “We didn’t know how Steve came into your life and now that we know the truth, well, we want more than a simple _I’m sorry_ from him.”

“So what? Are we going to invade his privacy because you want him to feel really bad about it?”

“First of all, we’re not invading his privacy at all.” Bunny rolled her eyes at him as if he’d just said something preposterous. “We didn’t actually make him invite us to dinner. That wasn’t on our list of demands, but good on him for thinking about it.”

“And secondly, we’re not going to make him feel bad about it.” Bear’s eyes darted quickly to Bunny then came to rest on him again. Out of all of them, hers was the gentlest soul. “We want to know him properly,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “We mean Steve, not Captain America. See what his intentions are.”

“He didn’t ask my hand in marriage, for fuck’s sake.” Bucky pushed his fingers through his hair, then his hands curled around his own hips. “He just wants to be friends.”

“And he can be.” Bunny shrugged when he narrowed his eyes at her. “After we finish with him.” Well, if that didn’t sound ominous, Bucky didn’t know what else did. He sighed and finally took a seat in one of the armchairs. He stared at his sisters, Becca listening with an indifferent air, but clearly just as invested. However, Bunny and Bear appeared as if they were ready to start a war in his name.

“Why the sudden change of mind?” he asked at last, suddenly too tired of pursuing that line of questioning. He was aware of his sisters’ stubbornness, thus proving the futility of trying to swim against the current.

“We didn’t change our minds, Bucky.” Bear huffed a little as she closed the laptop, her mouth crumpling slightly. “You didn’t let us have a mind on it in the first place because you and Becca decided that it was better to hide this from us. Although, I specifically remember that we made a pact on not hiding things from each other.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. It was a serious thing for about a hot minute and luckily, everything was sorted. But I guess you’re upset with me now.”

“We’re upset with you _and_ Becca.”

“Hey, I did arrange the meeting, didn’t I?” Becca threw her hands in the air, book and all.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell us what Steve did, no matter how much we pestered you with questions.” Bunny began to rearrange the bag, not looking at them anymore. “Steve wants to be your friend. Good. I liked the way he spoke about you and how he apologized to us again. I’ll give him that. But he needs to understand that you have people who care about you, who love and support you, and just because he’s Captain America, it doesn’t mean we’re not going to rain brimstone and fire over him if he hurts you or dares to take you from us.”

“On top of that, Darrell knows someone. So he’d better watch his back,” Bear filled in, but Bucky had lost the whole thread of the conversation. He was allowing himself to drown in the depth of their love and loyalty to him, the thump of his full heart rich and sonorous. How many more times were the girls going to make his heart expand with so much love? He had no clue but he vowed to keep such moments close to his heart, precious treasure to be cherished.

“I know I don’t say this often enough,” he said and swallowed hard against the sudden swell of emotion unfurling inside of him, “but I love you girls so much.”

“We know, doofus,” Bunny said and stood up, abandoning her sewing machine so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders in a strong embrace. Bear came closer as well, one hand squeezing his like a hurricane had just blown into their living room and was about to whisk him away. “We love you too. And you’d better hold up your end of the bargain as well or there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“My end of the bargain?” Bucky looked over Bear’s head at Becca, who watched the entire scene with suspiciously liquid eyes, book abandoned on the arm of the couch.

“Taking better care of yourself,” she supplied when his younger sisters just hugged him harder.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it just because we shifted our focus to Steve,” Bunny flicked his ear then ignored his outraged _hey_. “We’re not going to lose you, Bucky. So you’d better be prepared, dear bro, for what’s about to come.”

“Please, don’t ever call me _bro_ again.” Bucky shuddered. “You’re giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She flicked his ear again and then let him go. “Now go and grab a shower, you stink.”

“Hey, I don’t stink!” He exclaimed. “Besides, I’m your oldest brother. You should treat me with respect.” He gave Bear a quick hug as well, then stood up, stretching a little. One or two pops reverberated through the room, making the girls wince.

“Yeah, clearly _older_ ,” Becca said and rolled her eyes. “Now go and shower. I’m making lasagna this afternoon.”

“I love you,” his words came unbidden and grateful.

“The saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach must be true in Bucky’s case,” Bunny chipped in as she sat back at her sewing machine. Bear giggled and Bucky rolled his eyes at them.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up while you can.”

“Just shut up! Go and grab a shower, before you stink up the whole room.”

“I don’t stink!” He shouted back but stomped upstairs followed by their hoots and laughter. As soon as he closed the door to his room, he leaned against it and brought his hand to his chest, tears threatening to make their presence known. He’d never loved his sisters more than in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm eternally grateful to [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for her incredible patience in dealing with my wonky grammar/ spelling and my inconsistencies. All the remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. :)
> 
> **An important note:**  
>  My darlings, this story will be on hiatus for two weeks, due to circumstances that are beyond my control (real-life can be horrible like that). :( I'm sorry about this; I promise that this is the only hiatus this story will be on and I will be back on the regular schedule on ~~Wednesday 23rd~~ ~~Wednesday 30th~~ (I don't even know what two weeks of hiatus mean anymore; that's it, I'm loosing it O_O). As always, thank you for reading and supporting this story. <3
> 
> **Another note:**   
>  ~~Darlings, I won't be able to meet my own deadline, due to real life being the way it currently is. _cue heavy sigh and a few well-chosen swear words_ I'll have to postpone for another week the new update. So next chapter will be with you on **Wednesday October 7th**.~~


	8. In which a simple dinner becomes so much more

The whole situation was perplexing from the very beginning.

For one thing, Steve’s building didn’t look as Bucky had expected. Indeed, he double checked the address twice to ensure he actually arrived at the right place.

The street was colorful and quiet – well, as peaceful as a street could be in the now gentrified Williamsburg. Chestnut trees were losing their leaves to the pavement, attempting to paint the streets in their yellow and orange hues. Bucky turned to Steve’s building again. Painted in a rusty shade of brown, it blended in with the other colorful buildings of the street, its initial purpose as a warehouse only detectable through its industrial shape. However, the large windows with dark painted frames, showing off textured curtains, and the massive brown door spoke of a place well-lived. Two small and well-clipped evergreen trees in neat cone shape pyramids flanked the door steps, welcoming.

“Are you going to knock or stay here for the rest of the day?” Becca asked, and bumped their shoulders together.

Bucky stared back at his sisters, who watched him in trepidation. They each carried a gift – Bucky swallowed past his suddenly tense throat and returned his gaze to the door. He had been unprepared for the careful way in which the girls had gotten ready for the visit. Becca bought a nice and fluffy fleece blanket – blue with beautiful white stars at each corner – that was comfy, springing ideas and thoughts of curling underneath it with a good book and a hot cup of cocoa, or with a beloved person, hands and lips wandering over hot smooth skin. Bunny painted a small canvas, a meteor rising and falling inside a cold dead night, bright and lively, its hues of yellow and orange almost bringing tears to Bucky’s eyes. Even Bear had been better prepared than him with her home-made chocolate that tasted of Sunday mornings and laughter in the kitchen. They said that they had no idea about this visit, but the carefully prepared gifts spoke of intention and carefully-laid plans.

Bucky smoothed his dark navy button-up shirt underneath his leather jacket with a clammy hand, then pressed the buzzer button, his other hand gripping the neck of a wine bottle tightly. An expensive wine bottle, but still just a wine bottle, which most likely did nothing for Steve. God, why was he so lame that he couldn’t even think of something better to bring?

He swallowed again and shuffled on his feet as the door opened at last. Thoughts of inadequacy withered and died when confronted with the vision that Steve Rogers was. Bucky’s jaw might have hit the floor. Just a little. Because Steve? He was dressed in a cashmere sweater, green and looking so smooth that Bucky had to clench his free hand hard so as not to reach for him and _touch_. Anywhere. Not to mention that it encased his shoulders, making him look even taller and better built than any human that walked on this earth ever. And the black jeans? Yeah, Bucky wasn’t going to think about strong thighs and muscles for miles. He _wasn’t_.

The sudden burst of desire licked at his spine with such force that when opening his mouth in greeting, he promptly choked on his spit and began coughing.

“Are you okay, Buck?” Steve immediately asked, hands hovering awkwardly over him, but not touching.

“He’s perfectly fine,” Becca cut in and pushed him aside as Bucky could only wave his hand like a lunatic, wishing to all things holy for the ground to split open and just swallow him whole. “Hi, Steve. Thank you for having us.”

“Welcome to my home!” Steve smiled a little unsure, as the girls went in one by one, greeting and smiling at him. “Are you okay now?” he asked when Bucky stopped coughing like a maniac at long last.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Bucky swallowed thickly, his throat sore and dry. “Sorry about that. Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Buck.” Steve’s eyes crinkled adorably as he smiled. “Please, come in.”

Bucky nodded and finally stepped inside, following his sisters, as he took his shoes off. He peeked through his eyelashes at his surroundings, expecting to see high tech alarms and a few screens asking for fingerprints, medical history and probably a sample of blood as well to be allowed to enter Captain America’s place. However, there was nothing to signal such things, though Bucky wasn’t naive enough to believe that Steve’s home didn’t benefit from a high tech protection system.

Speaking of which, the man of the house gestured to a wide entryway flanked by a few interior plants that sent their green tendrils above the doorway, making everything leafy and welcoming. His sisters followed the indicated direction in a happy sort of chatter, exchanging pleasant greetings with Steve and talking about the weather (typical autumn day), the traffic here (horrendous, even on a Sunday afternoon) and _how are you’_ s ( _fine, so fine, thank you_ ).

Half-listening only, Bucky was about to marvel on the soft carpet as he entered the living room only to be hit by another wave of gross inadequacy, for Steve’s place looked right out of some interior designer’s place or something. He could already see Bunny’s eyes glimmering in delight.

“Wow, Steve, your home is gorgeous!” Bunny exclaimed, her hands intertwined as they all took in the vast room.

It definitely measured more than one’s average living room, one of its walls entirely covered in bookshelves. There were also paintings and posters strewn across the other walls, a few of them leaning against the said walls, waiting to be hung up. There was a sleek vinyl record player, records arranged in careful order next to it. Also, more plants strewn across the room, a coffee table and a relatively small plasma TV that looked like it hadn’t been used much.

More books and newspapers laid on the beautifully carved coffee table, which was surrounded by a giant couch with fluffy pillows (fit for a super soldier, ha!) and two comfortable-looking armchairs. All of them had been carefully arranged in harmony with the old-fashioned fire place, its beautiful mantelpiece holding a few black and white photos and a beautiful portrait of a woman with a gentle smile and incredibly blue eyes.

“Thank you for having us, Steve. We really appreciate it.” Becca’s smile reached her eyes as she pushed a wandering strand of hair behind her ear and extended her gift. “Just a small gift as a thank you for your invitation.”

“Oh, thank you.” Steve blushed, his thick fingers curling over the wrapped blanket carefully. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, we couldn’t come visit you empty handed.” Bunny shuffled on her spot as Steve put the gift on a medium sized chest that looked well-traveled, although it had been many years since people usedchests as baggage. “Our parents taught us better than that. What I brought you could never compare to your art but I hope you enjoy it anyways.” And she gave him her canvass with a blush and a nod before sitting on an armchair and refusing to meet Steve’s eyes.

“I hope you like chocolate,” Bear added softly and followed in her sisters’ footsteps by giving him her gift and then promptly taking her coat off.

“Thank you. Seriously, you shouldn’t have.” Steve looked a little overwhelmed, if Bucky were to judge by the sudden tight pinch at the corner of his lips, the way he was still holding the two gifts as if unsure how to proceed from here. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable while I make some hot chocolate?”

“Sounds good to me.” Becca must have sensed the sudden uncertainty of their host because she asked, her voice soft, “Do you mind if we have a look through your bookshelves?”

“Please, by all means, make yourselves at home.” It sounded sincere and it was because his smile reached his eyes, wobbly as it might have been. He carefully set the other gifts next to Becca’s blanket. “I’m going to grab your brother to help out with the hot chocolate. Unless you want something else?”

“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Bear chipped in, already picking up a book from the coffee table and reading the reviews on the back of the cover.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Bucky mumbled as soon as they were out of earshot, his fingers still squeezing the goddamn wine bottle. Steve’s shoulders dropped a little and his smile didn’t look so thin anymore. “I told you you shouldn’t have done this. It would have been better to just meet at a restaurant.”

“Buck, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, still holding the wine bottle like the moron that he was. “I feel like we’re invading your space.”

“Well, you aren’t.” His hands suddenly curled carefully over Bucky’s shoulders, warm and anchoring, their heat searing. “I wouldn’t have invited you over if I hadn’t wanted you here. And I do want you here, Buck. And your sisters. So please, don’t feel like you’re intruding.”

Bucky took in a shuddering breath and nodded, the patheticness of his whole situation slamming into him like a brick wall. “Should I mention that I brought you the most useless gift?” And he raised the bottle of wine. Steve burst out laughing, shaking his head and letting Bucky go. He swayed a little, so abruptly bereft of Steve’s presence.

Steve grabbed the bottle and put it in the fridge. “No, it’s not useless at all. True, alcohol doesn’t do anything to me anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the taste of it.”

“Glad to see I’m not a complete loser today.”

“You’re not a loser, Buck.” Steve shook his head fondly as took out the ingredients for the hot chocolate, his gestures betraying the level of comfort that only a person that habitually spent time in the kitchen could have gained.

“You say that now, pal, but you didn’t unwrap the gifts my sisters brought you. After that, I’m sure you won’t ever want to see my face again.”

“There is never going to be a time when I don’t want to see your face.” Steve’s declaration might have sounded ridiculous, one hand still on the milk, the other reaching for the chocolate mix. But his eyes were shining, blue and so bright, and there was something so generous and warm to the lush curve of Steve’s lips ( _why did he notice such things all of a sudden, why?_ ) that Bucky could only nod dumbly in response. “Are you going to keep on ranting at yourself for something that I don’t exactly understand or are you going to help me with the hot chocolate?” Bucky’s smile was a pale imitation of one, but he did his best as he carefully nodded.

He felt off-kilter, as if he had just been involved in a vital race and somehow he hadn’t had the time to fully prepare for it, the reason eluding him. Yet, somehow, he hadn’t anticipated all of this, for Steve’s home to be so, well, _homely_. The beautiful hues of mahogany and cherry-wood combined with the vintage pieces of furniture exuded taste and elegance and comfort.

Nothing about Steve’s place was what Bucky expected. The kitchen was dominated by a round, heavy-looking wooden table with five mismatched chairs. When Steve noticed what Bucky was looking at, he shuffled a little before mumbling, “I just didn’t have so many guests at a table up til now.”

“What about –?” Bucky bit his lip because he didn’t want to say something wrong and ruin the mood. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “What about your other friends?”

“We usually have our big meals at the Tower.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. Especially if Thor has the time to stop by, as well.” Steve appeared in his element. “He makes all the dinners much more enjoyable.”

“Is he as rambunctious as he appears in some of the conferences?”

“Worse at times.” Steve shook his head, but his fondness was palpable. “Thor is the kind of man who always has a kind word or a joke to make you laugh just when you thought that you would never be able to laugh or smile again.”

“He sounds like a good man and a nice friend to have when things get tough,” Bucky said, taking in Steve’s relaxed shoulders. He scratched at his unshaven cheek, staring at the ceiling, as he said quickly, “I never pictured you so comfortable in the kitchen.”

“You do know that I used to live by myself for most of my life right? There was no such thing as take out back in the thirties.”

“I know.” Bucky rolled his eyes, blushing a little. “I just meant now – or no, that sounded worse. I just meant that –” Yeah, this wasn’t going well. At all. Why couldn’t he pull himself together? “I don’t like cooking,” he began again. “I mean I do it for my sisters because I have to, we do take turns and everything, but it’s not something I particularly enjoy. And I think it shows because I’m never comfortable in the kitchen. But you? I thought because you know so many good places to eat out that you might be too busy with, you know, saving the world to bother cooking.”

Bucky blushed furiously as Steve glanced at him. Flustered, he looked away and realized that he didn’t take off his leather jacket to begin with so he shrugged it off because anything was better than looking at Steve. He hung it on the back of a chair so he could have something to do with his hands.

“I liked cooking since I was little,” Steve spoke softly, his attention diverted from Bucky. “There were so few things that I was able to do to make my mother’s life a little bit easier.” Steve carefully poured the hot chocolate in the awaiting mugs. “Cooking and cleaning, or mending clothes seemed to be the only things I was good for. Yet, I couldn’t find it in me to be upset about because I was helping and she was working _so hard_.” Steve rested his hands on the counter, staring at them lost in the memory. “What about you?” he asked and shook himself.

“Ma taught me.” Bucky grabbed the plate of cookies and followed Steve out of the kitchen. “Since we were little, Ma always tried to teach us skills that we would need in life. She insisted on cooking, me especially because I was a boy – she didn’t want me to wait on my partner to do all the chores in the house, while I wasn’t educated enough to even do laundry for instance.”

“Though you did turn your sheets pink the first time you tried to ‘help’,” Becca piped up and grinned mischievously when Bucky scowled at her.

“I was nine. Also, there’s no need for Steve to find out our embarrassing family stories, thank you very much.”

“Of which there are plenty, yours more than others,” Bunny said and hid her smile behind her own mug.

“Oh, by all means, do tell!” Steve grinned, wide and curious. “I want to know more about those.”

“Thank you very much! What a good pal you are!” Bucky slumped into his seat on the couch, grabbing his own mug with both hands, and pretended to be absorbed by the delicious brew.

Steve chuckled next to him and took a sip from his own. “They can’t be worse than that time I had to walk back from Coney Island dressed as a hot dog because someone had stolen my clothes from the locker.”

“Oh, no, Steve! Do tell!” Bucky smiled as Steve dazzled the girls with a story that sounded half-fantastical and half-real, but all too funny.

This was how they spent the next hour, trading stories about their family, while Steve spoke candidly about his friends and Peggy Carter, the girls drinking in each word about her because she was legendary and also, because she’d been a role model for a lot of women throughout her lifetime.

All the while, Bucky listened and intervened very little, oddly feeling like he simply couldn’t find his place. What had changed? The open way in which Steve looked at him? His home and what that said about him? There was no sign of Captain America but everything sang about Steve Rogers and his love for comfort and warmth.

There was only _Steve Steve Steve_

Bucky stood up abruptly. Bunny stopped talking about the program that she was currently attending at school and they all looked at him.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” he mumbled, embarrassed by his outburst. No one could accuse Bucky that he wasn’t dramatic when he wanted to be. 

“First door on the left, Buck."

“Thank you.”

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Bucky grabbed the edge of the sink and bowed his head. He couldn’t shake himself out of this stupid odd state – being in Steve’s space, seeing things he cherished. It kind of smoothed the smudged edges around his person, it gave him a dimension against which Bucky was utterly defenseless. He’d been aware that Steve was gorgeous and attractive but in that general sort of way that one would get with unattainable people.

Yet, being in his house somehow took that unattainable layer away and left Bucky completely unprepared for the way he craved to _touch_ him at times.

He flicked the faucet and splashed cold water on his flushed face. He needed to get a grip on himself – whatever was happening with him made everything go haywire inside of him and _he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t_. There were things little people like him would never obtain. He wiped at his face a little harder than he should have, then stared at his own reflection in the mirror. _Get a fucking grip. You’re in the man’s home. He already opened up to you in a way you don’t deserve. Don’t fuck it up_.

He returned the towel back on its rack, pulled in a deep breath and opened up the door, determined to be the friend that he promised he would be to Steve. He was just about to join them back in the living room when Bear’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“– and you lost your mother, so we orphans need to stick together.” Her voice wavered and from the hallway he could see her with her legs pulled underneath her, looking for all intents and purposes like the child that she still was. “Though I guess, we’re not exactly orphans. Since we have Bucky.”

“And he adopted you.” There was something kind in Steve’s voice, something resolute and sturdy.

“Yes.” Bunny nodded for emphasis. Bucky could see her, taking a seat next to Bear, but Becca and Steve were out of his visual field. And luckily, none of them were able to see him. Why exactly he was listening at the doors, Bucky wouldn’t be able to determine but he listened anyway. “But he’ll adopt you as well, it’s what he does. He adopts people and looks after them. He has few friends but he’s loyal and he’s brave. And he’ll look out for you too, now.”

“I don’t think I can –”

“He’ll let you in. He already has. For anything else, you have the list.” It sounded like an unshakable sentence. It sounded like a blessing. There was love shining through each word and the sort of understanding sounding like a vow. Bucky rubbed at his eyes like a little kid and stepped into the living room, unwilling to listen anymore. Whatever had been discussed or transpired between his sisters and Steve should remain amongst them.

“All good?” Steve asked as soon as he took in Bucky, his eyes warm and kind.

“Yes, all good.”

And it was.

The dinner was pot roast chicken and salad. They all moved in the kitchen to lend a helping hand, though there wasn’t much that Steve hadn’t prepared. The girls chopped the vegetables for the salad as they told stories from their childhood or listened to Steve as he talked about his neighbors and his mother and memories that were no longer preserved by anyone else but him.

The kitchen filled in with music from a radio tucked between two potted plants by the window sill, and the smell from the roasted chicken was divine. Bucky filled with wonder and allowed his heart to feel full, basking in the closeness that they all shared. But mostly, he relished in the closeness that brewed between Steve and him, each casual brush of hands or shoulders a comfortable reassurance that they were all there enjoying themselves.

After dinner and after they helped out with the cleaning – _Seriously, you don’t have to. The rule is the cook cooks and the ones fed_ _clean_ _the table and wash the dishes. Them are the rules, pal_ – they wound down by playing a Trivia game while drinking orange juice and cider.

Steve stood up at some point and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Could you please come with me?”

Bucky glanced at his sisters, who appeared to be caught up in the game, then nodded back and stood up as well. He followed Steve out of the living room but instead of going to the kitchen as he had expected, Steve began ascending the stairs. Heat expanded inside Bucky’s chest, wide and sharp, as they reached upstairs. Steve turned left and entered a room, leaving the door opened for Bucky.

The room was wider than he had expected, its walls painted in a soft shade of yellow that made the dying light of the day and the orange hued street lights reflect around like a magical spectacle of light and shadow. The large windows allowed a generous view of the street, but kept the noise at bay, the late traffic muffled and afar.

A large table with chrome legs spread across one wall, a chair with high legs pushed next to it. Across it, palettes of colors, tiny statues, pottery, small sculptures made of wire and different types of recycled materials splayed in an artistic mess that talked about imagination and abstract concepts. Opposite the table there was a pottery table that seemed to have been recently used, more material next to it.

But the rest of the room? Covered in canvasses and paintings waiting to be discovered and admired. Some of them were kept in wooden frames, turned so as not to reveal to the viewer their artistic merit. Were they too intimate? Too beautiful? Bucky’s heart hammered inside his chest as another thought crossed his mind: were they too revealing? Would they show the nightmares that certainly plagued Steve? The incommensurable weight of the water? Of the ice? It surely seemed like that if he were to judge by the few paintings that were hanging on the walls.

One of them revealed an icy landscape, menacing mountains in the distance, an unforgiving landscape, merciless and uncaring. Huge snowflakes captured the gaze of the viewer as if he too stood there, admiring the terrible reality of the arctic landscape and praying that the ice would not take him. It gave Bucky a visceral feeling of doom and loneliness and, without meaning too, he took two steps to Steve and grabbed his hand, squeezing lightly.

“Yes,” Steve muttered when noticing what Bucky was staring at, “it wasn’t a good day.”

“How long were you awake?” Bucky whispered, not taking his eyes away from the painting, not daring to breathe.

“Too long.” Steve grasped his hand tighter. “The ice – um, not a lot of people tell you that the ice can burn just as much. That it hurts before you get warm. That it feels like it is going to hurt forever.”

“Steve.”

“There’s only you and the elements and nothing in between.” Steve hung his head. “For all the serum I received, I was just as vulnerable in front of the elements as anyone else. Maybe all the more torturous since it took longer. For some reason, it always takes longer. The pain, the brunt of it.” He shook his head and squeezed Bucky’s hand one more time before he let go.

Bucky swayed again, suddenly off-balance, bereft and alone. He blinked – what an odd afternoon! He turned to Steve and watched him as he pulled out a medium sized canvass covered in brown paper. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little flushed.

“I want you to have this.”

Bucky instantly balked. “Oh, No, Steve, I couldn’t.” Too much, too much. He didn’t deserve this.

“I want you to have it because I painted it with you in my head.” Steve’s eyes reflected the scorching ice. “It belongs to you.”

The enormity of such a gesture was too vast for Bucky’s mind to comprehend, even as he extended trembling hands and took the painting with reverent touches as if it would disintegrate as soon as he touched it.

“Thank you.” How little those words could express what he actually meant. He couldn’t find the necessary strength to rip that brown paper and look at the painting. Something whispered that Steve wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. However, he could do the next best thing, which was to carefully set it aside and take in the man in front of him.

A giant amongst little people, Steve was an ice statue, unblinking and remote, his eyes icy and granite, and Bucky couldn’t stand it.

“May I?” He asked, his voice low and scratchy.

“Anything, Buck.”

His arms wrapped around those wide shoulders, carefully holding a man that could rip tanks and people apart and yet who felt as fragile as spun glass. Steve’s hands curled around his hips and brought him closer, closer still, until they were embracing like they had not seen each other in decades. Arms tightened and Bucky hid his face in Steve’s neck and breathed him in. He smelled clean and powerful like ice and snow. His heart trembled as it sang. Wrapped around each other, He couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

In the semi-obscurity of the room, all Bucky could think was –

_I want to give you everything I want to give you everything I want to give you everything_

✧

The house fell quiet and sleepy. Bucky turned on his side and stared at the painting that Steve had given him. He took in each stroke of brush, each color, the intricate play of shadow and light. He studied the shape of the man looking in the distance, his back turned to the viewer, electric in his solitude and yet determined to push through. The trees were turning darker and darker as the horizon widened, the sky expanding in swirls of navy and dark blue. Bucky wondered whether that was a good or a bad sign, whether the traveler would push ahead through those dark woods or would settle at the root of an evergreen and choose to give up.

Yet… yet sheer stubbornness wrapped like a blanket over those shoulders, square and poised. He could recognize a piece of himself in that man, the part of him that had pushed through the death of his parents and the responsibilities that had befallen him afterwards, the aftermath devastating in its complexity and sheer daunting nature. Yes, the traveler was going to push through. Despite the relatively intimidating landscape, the whole painting exuded hope and determination. Steve said that he had painted it with Bucky in mind, yet there was a part of Steve’s own stubbornness reflected there too. Maybe the man was a combination of the two of them.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed. Something hot and heavy pooled inside of him, leaving him breathless and lightheaded. Seeing and experiencing Steve’s openness that evening had cracked Bucky right open, leaving him flayed and displayed for all to see the rawness and fragility of his own thoughts. What had this dinner flipped in side of him? What switch it had pressed?

His hands tightened on the covers. He opened his eyes again. Was he really worthy of Steve’s sincerity? Of Steve’s openness?

Bucky scrubbed at his face, glancing away from the painting, and turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to fall easily asleep that evening. He wouldn’t even bother trying.

He let his mind wander back to that afternoon, the way they held each other, the way in which all his senses had been overwhelmed by _Steve Steve Steve_ – in that moment, he had been the most real person Bucky had ever touched. The warmth of his skin, his arms around Bucky, his chest against his. A comfortable closeness.

Unworthy as he might have been of that point in time, Bucky let his thoughts slide away towards Steve and the lush curve of his lips. He allowed himself the deep sort of honesty that usually came only in the dead of a lonely night. Bucky faced the truth of the fact that he had craved to taste the lushness of Steve’s lips.

His whole chest constricted with the reality and honesty of such an admission – his unworthiness to touch that man obvious even to himself.

 _Yet_ … all he could think of as he closed his eyes was…. _If only_ ….

✧

In Bucky’s opinion, there weren’t many good things to be said about Mondays. While the admission of wanting to kiss Steve had pressed around the edge of his consciousness throughout the day, the life of a working person rarely allowed processing and exploring epiphanies during the day. Not that Bucky was naturally inclined to do so anyway – it required a degree of honesty from his part that he usually avoided. So Bucky had stubbornly thrown himself into work, for once not bothered by the fact that he had to stay after hours to run diagnosis on an older Yamaha model.

But if he had any hope that Tuesdays were better than Mondays, he was sorely mistaken. Because there were even fewer good things to tell about Tuesdays, especially when the early morning descended upon him and caught him by surprise with a massive headache the likes of which made Bucky believe that his brain had just gained autonomy and had been utterly determined to crawl itself out of Bucky’s skull.

“I heard you’re not feeling well,” Dugan said as he walked in the staff room around eleven o’clock. Bucky was sitting at the table with his head resting on his forearms, searching for a moment of respite. He had popped two tablets of Tylenol with a big glass of water and had attempted to eat; however, the painful lurch that his stomach had given was enough of a warning to abandon his hope of filling up his stomach.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” he mumbled into the crook of his elbow, glaring at his boss. Dugan sat at the table next to him, studying him with careful eyes, worry etched on the tight pinch of his lips. Faced with Dugan’s concern, Bucky admitted, “My head is killing me and my eyes are about to pop out of my skull. But, otherwise, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh, good, and here I thought you were going to be dramatic.” Dugan grinned sharply at him but couldn’t hide the concerned frown even if he’d wanted. Which he didn’t, if Bucky was to judge by the calloused hand that squeezed gently at his shoulder. Then it moved to his forehead to feel his clammy skin. “You don’t have a fever but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to get one. How about you go home for today and grab a few hours of sleep?”

“I can’t do that. Still need to finish the Yamaha and –”

“Bucky, this wasn’t a request or an invitation. It was an order.” Dugan returned his hand to Bucky’s shoulder, curling around it reassuringly. “You look like death warmed over and you’re no good to me if you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I can work, Dugan.” Bucky insisted. “I just need a few moments.”

“You need a vacation; that’s what you need.” Dugan took his hand away and wiped at his face. Bucky hid his cheek into his elbow again, closing his eyes and taking some shuddering breaths through his one working nostril. “But that’s not going to happen. So how about take today and tomorrow off and I’ll see you here Thursday morning.”

“I need to work.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Son, you’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Bucky opened his eyes and stared at his boss, whose lips had thinned into a perfect line of downright stubbornness. “I’m afraid that if I breathe any harder, you’re going to fall right off that chair. So go home, take as much Tylenol as you can, and drink as much tea as you want. Then I’ll see you in two days, bushy tailed and smart ass remarks just as always.”

“I don’t make smart ass remarks,” Bucky groaned, pouting a little. “I make important remarks that are full of wisdom and wit.”

“Dear Lord, save me from stubborn idiots!” Dugan rolled his eyes, a gesture most unbecoming for a man his age, but Bucky wasn’t about to tell him that. “You’re full of something all right, I’ll give you that.” Dugan’s frown deepened. “Just to let you know, this doesn’t give you an excuse to skip my Halloween bash. I’ll have you there, even if I have to bundle you in blankets on my couch and serve you tea all night.”

Bucky stood a little straighter and rubbed at his eyes, groaning a little when it did nothing to relieve his headache. “There’s still one week to go, boss. I think I can manage to return to my usual charming self by then.”

“It’s actually this weekend, but I’m glad to hear you’re keeping up with the times.” Sarcasm shouldn’t have been so strong with Dugan, especially when Bucky was feeling so crappy, but there it was: out in all its splendor. Dugan passed his gentle fingers through Bucky’s hair. “How are you, kid, really? It’s not like you to forget about Halloween.”

Bucky shrugs, sniffling a little. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Has that _a lot_ have anything to do with Steve Rogers?”

Bucky nodded but was too afraid to look at Dugan, so he chose to sniffle some more into the crook of his bent elbow and not open his eyes. He was brave like that. Dugan’s gentle hand found his shoulder and squeezed lightly, almost afraid. “What is it, son? What has been bothering you?” Dugan’s kindness slipped through the round vowels and curling consonants. A gentle reminder that Bucky wasn’t as alone as he thought himself when the grey cloud of his darker thoughts would fog the reality of his situation.

“We went to Steve’s place this past Sunday,” he mumbled, a slight flush (that had nothing to do with his headache) spreading over his cheeks – his own body was the worst of betrayers at the worst of times. “He invited us for dinner.”

“When you say his place, do you mean _his place_ or his place at the Tower?”

“I mean his place.”

“And you went there with the girls.”

“Yes.” The blush intensified when he met Dugan’s inquisitive eyes.

“I see. It was that good of a visit.” Dugan’s smile blooming under his moustache was more gentle and understanding than Bucky deserved in that moment.

It was the same kind of gentle and understanding smile that Dugan bestowed upon him when Bucky had come out to him, a trembling and quite fearful mess of a seventeen-year-old. Some of the guys working at the auto shop at the time had been ribbing him for months about girlfriends and going out with girls, making him blush and shake with the fear of being known. There hadn’t been any homophobic remarks made in the short months he had been working there but he was afraid that sooner or later the truth would come out and he wouldn’t be welcomed anymore. Especially since Dugan had given him a chance when no one else would even bother looking at him.

Back then, that smile had put Bucky at ease, had made him go home skipping with gratefulness and giddiness at being accepted, at being forced to come out in a way but only to be met with kindness and acceptance and a warm hug.

He kept the memory of that afternoon, of that hug and smile, close to his heart, a warm precious treasure to be hoarded and kept close for those dark hours where he would doubt himself.

But now, as his boss and friend waited patiently, Bucky missed the words to express what exactly settled inside his soul, that new treasure that he didn’t dare to give it a name or even a touch of reality.

“He is... Dugan, you know, your grand daddy served under him – they talked about his kindness and about him being an honorable man and – um, I don’t know. He’s so _Steve Rogers_ I don’t know where to begin.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was so kind to the girls and listened to them with genuine interest and seriously, he’s actually become a friend of mine now.” Bucky bit his lip a little – he craved to mention the studio but that had been such an intimate thing, just the two of them in that embrace, that he actually didn’t dare to speak of it out loud for fear it might dispel the magic of the moment. It was his and he was going to hoard it like a dragon hoarded his treasure. Not even the girls got a straight answer when they asked about what had happened when they had disappeared.

“So what’s the problem then?”

Bucky nuzzled his own forearm and sighed heavily, his head pulsing like a raw wound. The image of Steve was scorched on his lids, under his skin, in a way nobody had been. before He bit his lips, then confessed what had been eating him from Sunday evening, “I’m not sure I’m worthy of it.”

“What do you mean?” Dugan’s frown reappeared. “What has worthiness anything to do with being friends with the guy?”

“When we began this friendship, after all the misunderstandings between us, he said the reason why he tries so hard is because he thinks I’m a person worth knowing.”

Dugan slumped a little further into the chair, his voice not unkind when he spoke at last, “And you think he’s wrong.”

“Well, I’m just a guy from Brooklyn with three sisters to take care of and juggling two jobs to make ends meet.” Bucky bit his lip. “I’m really not that worth knowing, whatever the hell that means.”

“Not worth knowing?” Dugan’s frowned deepened. “What kind of bullshit is this? What’s this about worthiness? What makes him worthy of you? What? Because he’s Steve Rogers and saved the world a bunch of times?” Dugan shook his head and wiped at his face. “I swear sometimes I despair at the new generations. There is no such thing as being worthy of a person. Especially when it comes to people like Steve Rogers. No one could be worthy of him because those would be some goddamn impossible standards. He’d be goddamn lonely, wouldn’t he?”

“He has his Avenger friends. They sure look like they’re damn worthy.”

“Really?” Dugan’s eyebrows went higher. “If we thought about them, individually and their worthiness, we’d get some really nasty surprises. They’ve all done some pretty shitty things, though they save the world on the regular.” Dugan reached again for him. “You’re worthy of knowing, of being seen. _Acknowledged_. Is that what you’re afraid of? That he sees you just as you are?”

“For a guy that met me when he accused me of sabotaging his bike, he sure as hell _sees_ me,” Bucky admitted in rush, shuddering under the onslaught of the sudden confession, raw and untethered. The unexpected lump in his throat thickened his voice when he muttered in the space between them, “You should see the way he perceives me – I can’t believe such a person exists.” Bucky shrugged. “Maybe what he sees is an idealized version of me.”

“An idealized version of you? It sounds like an impossible feat, but there’s nothing that wouldn’t be anchored in reality, son. Think of it: you faced straight on all the responsibilities after your parents’ death. You take care of your sisters, you’re a hard worker, an honest man and, on top of that, you always try to be kind. What’s not to like?” Dugan’s eyes spoke of thunderstorms to anyone who would dare to find fault with Bucky Barnes. “Steve Rogers should be so lucky to have you.” At Bucky’s sharp gaze, Dugan amended quickly. “As a friend. Naturally.”

“I just –”

“Bucky, if he wants to know you, allow him to know you. If that’s what you want as well, of course. If he sees you and you think you see him too, then allow him. Can you comprehend how very few people get to see the real Steve Rogers? When all they do is acknowledge Captain America?”

Bucky shuddered at the implication. He wasn’t that blind that he couldn’t comprehend Steve’s loneliness and isolation to a certain extent. Hadn’t he been consumed with the thought that Steve might not have someone to look after him in his own dark moments? But most of all, didn’t Steve need to be seen and known the way normal people sometimes got to be?

“When did you become so wise?” Bucky grumbled as he stood a little straighter, raising his head.

“I’ve always been wise. You just failed to see it.” Dugan’s moustache twitched. “Now go home and get some rest. I want you back in two days in tip top form.”

“No one says tip top form.”

“Well, I do. You’d better not miss my Halloween party or I’ll skin you alive and not even your pal, Captain America, will be able to save you.”

“You fucking love me.” Bucky grinned, sharp like a shark. “You wouldn’t touch me with a flower.”

“I do, kid, I really do, but sometimes you’re testing me.” Dugan ruffled Bucky’s hair and smirked when Bucky scowled at him. “Now go before you keel over.”

“I won’t.” He almost crossed his arms and tapped his foot like two-year-old on their way to a temper tantrum.

“Yeah, I’m absolutely convinced of that.” Dugan’s raised eyebrow was an enough incentive to move. Bucky stood up, keeping his movements measured and slow. His boss stood up as well, hands hovering close to Bucky. “You sure you can drive?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed once, hard against the bitter bile at the back of his throat. “The traffic isn’t that bad at this time of day.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. If it was further I wouldn’t dare, but it will actually take me less than twenty minutes to reachhome if I leave now.”

“If you say so. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, as in _whatever you say Dugan, just let me leave_? Or okay as in _yeah, Dugan, I’ll call you if I need something_?”

“A little bit of both?”

“I seriously don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

Bucky smiled. Standing in the little staff room, the greying hairs each day more and more pronounced, Dugan looked like a father equally dismayed and amused by his son’s antics. Utterly defenseless against such loving display, Bucky ignored the awful headache and carefully wrapped his arms around Dugan in a tight but warm embrace. “Thank you, old man,” he whispered, patting him carefully on his back.

“Of course, son. Any time.” And if Dugan’s voice sounded a little choked up, it was neither here nor there, and neither of them mentioned anything.

✧

The oddness of arriving home so early in the day wrapped around him like a soggy blanket on a winter’s day. The wrongness of it stirred something unpleasant inside of Bucky, so used to having little time to himself. The dark light of the cold October day cast the house in pale shades of grey that did nothing to soothe him. The ache of his bones trickled through his muscles and he took a long hot shower, attempting to alleviate those sore muscles and the prickly skin that made up his sense of self today.

After changing into a sweatshirt and a pair of sweats, he came back downstairs and made a huge mugof lemon and ginger tea. He had stopped at a pharmacy on his way home to pick up a couple of things for his migraine, hoping that whatever they had available over the counter might help a little. He grabbed the nasal spray and the generous mug of tea and went to the living room to settle down for the day.

He switched on the TV and channel surfed before settling on a documentary about wolves as he pulled a blanket over himself. Made warm by the hot tea and the thick blanket, he dozed off for the next hour, the silence of the house comforting in a way few things had been in the last few months. Waking up a little more alert, he grabbed another two tablets of Tylenol and filled his mug again with hot tea. He returned to his place on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

Bucky was about to change the channel again when the news report hit like a sledge hammer to his chest, fierce and mean. Bucky stared in horror as they kept on replaying a short black and white grainy movie, most likely extracted from a surveillance camera. It revealed Steve throwing his shield across from him, taking down two slimy monsters while Romanov crouched quickly and shot a few blasts of – what was that? Energy? It didn’t matter because in the next second, Steve shouted something to her and she must not have heard him when the slimy things (aliens? monsters?) threw something at her. The camera shook and filled with smoke, only to reveal the aftermath of the attack.

The news anchor mentioned something about the attack and containment, and Captain America being hurt but for the life of him, Bucky couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the image of Steve jumping in front of Romanov, his slack face after the explosion. _The blood_. Words didn’t possess any meaning when Steve was hurt. _Hurt_.

The oppressive silence of the room made the white noise flooding his ears sound all the more menacing and unreal. Head filled with cotton, it took him a few seconds to realize that the harsh breaths that echoed in the room were his. He stood up so suddenly that blood rushed to his head, blackening his vision. He gripped the couch arm rest hard, scrunching his eyes tightly closed and swallowing compulsively against the bile at the back of his throat. Before he knew it, he had his hoodie on and the keys to the car as he slammed the door closed behind him.

But once inside the car, doubts crashed into him with all the power of a rammer. He gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckle clench, the plastic of it protesting in protest. He stared out the window, chewing his bottom lip raw. He had no right to go to the Tower. At best, he was a friend for Steve, an acquaintance. They wouldn’t allow him in. They would ask him what the hell he thought he was doing there; even more, if he were to meet Natasha – she’d strong arm him into leaving as soon as possible.

But…

The bitter churning in his stomach rose alarmingly to his throat, forcing him to suck in shuddering after shuddering breath. Bucky sobbed harshly in his small car, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. But who was ensuring that Steve was safe and sound? _He has friends, goddamn it_ , he thought, aggravated that his worry for Steve clouded his judgement. Captain America had plenty of people to take care of him, to worry about him; he didn’t need Bucky ‘Nobody’ Barnes from Brooklyn, New York, toworry about him as well and storm the Tower like he belonged there.

But…

Spatters of heavy rain colored the windscreen in invisible hues, his labored breath echoing in the car as he bit the inside of his cheek, the sharp sting of it definitive. He would go there. He would go to the Tower and if they were going to let him see Steve, then so be it. If not, then that was a sign that he had nothing to do there and he should return home, next time quenching any desire to check up on Steve.

He started the engine and soon, he joined the busy traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge as he made his way to Manhattan, all the while his hands clammy and shaky as he checked every radio channel at every red light, hoping to catch any news report that might bring new information about Steve’s current status. However, there wasn’t much information to begin with and, soon enough, any new report would just repeat the same news, promising that they would keep people posted on any update about Captain America’s state.

Naturally, that did nothing to soothe Bucky’s frayed nerves. Therefore, by the time he managed to find a parking space, he was a mess as he required a few rough tries to pay for the parking, hands trembling and clumsy. He had enough presence of mind to call Becca and leave a message for her to make sure that she’d be with the girls that afternoon – she was in class and he probably ruined her plans for the afternoon but he promised to himself to make up for it.

The brisk walk to the Tower managed to calm his fraying nerves a little, though his mind kept on returning to Steve’s body, slack and unconscious, bloodied and battered. This was the stuff nightmares were made of, Bucky was sure of it. Not even the idea that Steve healed faster than any other human being made a dent in his worry – Steve could still feel the pain of it, the brunt of the fire and the hot shrapnel that had penetrated his skin like a knife through hot butter. The idea of Steve in any sort of painmade Bucky’s stomach swirl unpleasantly, and he actually stopped to pull in several unsteady breaths, before walking inside the building.

He wasn’t sure whether the security guys were the ones from the last time, but as soon as they noticed him at the entrance, they nodded at him and called him ahead, allowing him to quickly pass through the metal scans. There wasn’t as much madness in the main lobby as he had feared and his confusion must have been clearly painted on his face because one of the guys grimly observed, “The press is in the conference room as Mr. Stark is making a public statement.”

Bucky nodded and hoped that his thankfulness was apparent because his usual vernacular seemed to have disappeared into thin air, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, clumsy and thick, the worst assumptions rushing at the fore of his consciousness like a freight train.

His legs were practically made of jelly as he approached the main reception desk but as soon as she spotted him, the lady from the last time gestured sharply at him, her face grim but determined.

“Left elevator, Mr. Barnes! Just like last time!”

Bucky froze in his tracks, his resoluteness suddenly deflated when confronted with such easily-gained access. He blinked several times before the meaning of the instruction penetrated the haze around his brain and he quickly made his way towards the elevator, just in case she was about to change her mind at the last second and tell him to take a hike. Which wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility – though, when she mentioned that he had been granted access the last time he was there, he simply thought it had been a one time off.

“Thank you!” he shouted abruptly as he stepped in the elevator. The reception lady (and he really needed to learn her name) nodded just as the doors closed. A wave of uncertainty suddenly washed over him as he faced the startling reality that he had no clue whatsoever what floor he should press or what he should do. He should stop invading Steve’s space without any warning – maybe he wasn’t welcome.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes!” Jarvis’s voice startled him, though he should have expected it.

“Hello, Jarvis!” Bucky mumbled, bringing his hand to his chest and rubbing a little. “What did I say about warning me in advance?”

“I apologize, Mr. Barnes. Consider yourself warned for future reference.”

“Sure, pal.” Bucky bit his bottom lip, staring at the shiny doors ahead of him. “I am here to see Steve. However, I don’t have permission and I’m not sure I have the clearance.”

“Mr. Barnes, had you not have permission, I assure you that you would not have stepped into this elevator.” There was a faint trace of amusement in Jarvis’s voice and Bucky wondered whether the AI was mocking him a little. “Captain Rogers ensured that you have the necessary clearance to visit him in his private quarters and the medical wing. Naturally, your clearance does not extend to cover the headquarters, leisure floors, and the laboratories.”

“Yeah, I think you lost me at the fact that Steve actually arranged clearance for me,” Bucky said, the corner of his lips twitching slightly, still stunned to find out about the arrangements Steve made for him.

“I am sure sir will recover.”

“Jarvis, are you mocking me?”

“Mocking is highly above my capacities, sir.”

“Somehow, I sincerely doubt that.” Bucky crossed his arms, this time his lips actually twitching in a pale resemblance of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Sir knows me too well already.” Another trace of amusement. “It is scientifically proven that distracting people’s minds, thus stopping them from overthinking, can calm their heart rate and clear their minds, so that they can face the new situation better when the need arises.”

“I suppose it did work.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, then let his arms fall beside his body. The confidence that had spurred his trip all the way to the Tower had slipped through, leaving him defenseless. The echo of his headache was not entirely gone, his throat scratchy and sore. He pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat before asking what he wanted to know from the very beginning. “Is he all right?”

“He is going to be. Mr. Barton is awaiting for you and he will take to the medical wing.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Glad I could help, Mr. Barnes.”

The elevator stopped smoothly and its doors opened to reveal Clint Barton, still dressed in his Hawkeye getup and looking like he had passed through a meat grinder, his whole left side scratched and bloodied. It definitely appeared that the meat grinder had won.

“If your appearance is supposed to be reassuring, I can confirm you completely failed at that,” Bucky snarked as he made his way into the lobby, his stomach bottoming to new levels of low. He swallowed convulsively several times, his breath quickening.

Clint grimaced. “Yeah, I know, but Nat and Tony are leading the press conference, and Bruce is busy in the medical wing.”

“Are you okay, pal?” Bucky stared at the wounds, wondering how the hell the man was still standing. It was hard to keep in mind that some of the Avengers were mere human beings with no super powers whatsoever. You know, other than their sheer force of will.

“Yeah, I’m going to be all right.” Clint actually rolled his wounded shoulder and winced just a little. “It looks like we get to meet only in awful situations.”

“True. But it’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re okay.” Bucky shuffled a little on his feet like a naughty child called in front of the principal, a cold sweat breaking on his back. “I mean, you know, as okay as possible in the current situation.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Am I – um, am I allowed to see him or should I wait somewhere for an update?”

“You should see him. I think you’re the only one who could distract him momentarily.” Clint tilted his head to his right. “Follow me.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s been better,” Clint said, but his wince wasn’t reassuring at all. “The explosion was close to him and Nat, therefore some shrapnel hit him full on, since he decided to play the role of a human shield. The doctors are operating under the clock to take out all the shrapnel because his skin and muscles are already trying to heal over existing pieces still embedded into his body. Also, his fast metabolism burns through the painkillers and the sedation that the doctors have been offering him.”

“Are you telling me that he can’t have anesthesia?” Clint’s grim face was enough of an answer. “What the hell? I thought that people worked on this sort of thing and they came up with a solution a long time ago.”

“It’s not that easy.” Clint scratched at his stubbled cheek. “There isn’t any formula of the serum laying around for them to analyze or come up with rapid and effective solutions. They’ve been working hard at this but the best sedation for Steve still seems to be huge amounts of pain that could knock him out.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“I’m afraid your lord and savior can’t do much for people like us.”

“Well, it sure as hell looks like you might be in need of a miracle or two.” Bucky ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound accusing, I just thought –”

“Yeah, me too, Bucky – can I call you Bucky?” When he nodded, Clint seemed a little more relaxed.“Trust me, me too.” Clint grimaced, scratching again at his cheek, this time with his bloodied hand, enough to smudge some blood on it. “We’re here.”

The medical double doors opened and revealed one of the most advanced medical wings Bucky had ever seen in his life. There were enough contraptions and medical equipment that it made it all look like either the most advanced hospital wing in the developed world, or the laboratory of a mad scientist that loved to experiment with his subjects.

Either way, it didn’t put Bucky’s mind at ease at all. On the contrary, it only amplified his worries. Being on what looked like an elaborate set on Star Trek or something did nothing to relieve his worries. A medical professional approached them and without asking any questions, helped Bucky dress in a medical gown with economical moves, after offering him medical gloves and a cap. All the while his mind was running in circles.

What the hell did he think that he would achieve coming here?

An inhuman shout from an adjacent room crashed against him, its rawness making him flinch. Clint’s wide eyes promised nothing good.

“When you said distract him, what the hell did you mean?” Bucky swung around so hard he might have given himself a whiplash.

“Look, Bucky, the sedation and the pain killers work to a less degree than the doctors wanted. You could distract him – talk about anything you want, I don’t know, describe a movie that you saw, talk about your favorite pet, anything. Anything at all, just make sure that you have his whole attention.”

“ _Clint_.”

“Of course, only if you want to.” Clint shrugged. “It’s a tall order, I know, especially from a bunch of strangers to whom you don’t owe anything,” Clint said, his eyes already darting towards a small adjacent hallway that probably lead to where Steve was currently being held.

“Are they still operating on him?” Bucky asked, his voice thick and gravelly, unrecognizable even to himself.

“Yes.”

Bucky fisted his hands, his whole body a taught line. “Take me to him.”

“Thank you.” Clint tilted his head towards the small hallway and Bucky followed him through it, his head buzzing, blood rushing to his ears, his hands hot and sweaty inside the medical gloves. It took them less than ten steps to reach a set of double doors, glazed over only on the bottom half, revealing Steve.

Bucky froze in front of the entrance, despite Clint trying to pull him forward.

Steve stood up on a medical bed, half naked and covered with a sheet from the waist down. His whole face was pinched tight, his lips pressing into a thin and tight line, shoulders hunched forward as if he wanted to get away from there and run as far as his strength could take him. He was anchored to a metal contraception at the front, some sort of hoist, that would equally hold him upright and give him something to hold on to, his wide hands clutching at it in a white-knuckled grip, its strength so vast that it might have broken a long time ago, had it not been made from something far sturdier than what ordinary people had available, Bucky was sure.

A drip was attached to Steve’s right arm, sedation or painkillers pouring directly into his vein at a speed that would have probably killed any normal human being. Yet, it seemed it did nothing for Steve if Bucky were to judge by the stern looks of the doctors that worked on his back, their brows furrowed and eyes pinched tight with fraught tension that not even the medical masks could hide.

“Just four more, Captain Rogers!” said one of them, throwing something in an adjacent tray, away from Bucky’s tense gaze. Steve nodded in pointed assent, the sharp line of his clenched jaw hard as granite.

The world narrowed down to Steve, that wounded Atlas. A sort of sick gratefulness spread through Bucky’s veins – he couldn’t see the extent of Steve’s wounds. The few bruises that marred his chest were already yellow and healing faster than Bucky could blink. Which he did. Several times.

Bucky turned away and pulled in a deep shuddering breath, hands fisted tight, staring at the wall aside. Was he allowed to be there? Should he even walk in that room? Clint was adamant that Steve needed him, but it didn’t seem that way. Yes, he was in pain but surely, there was nothing that Bucky could do. Surely, his touch, while it would be _oh so gentle_ would not bring the relief that Clint thought it might have.

Bucky squeezed his hands tighter. He didn’t belong there – he had no right to be there, invading Steve’s privacy like that. Yes, he wished to be the one to wait for Steve, to make sure that he was safe and sound but –

A visceral grunt of pain echoed around the room, spreading its dark wings all the way to Bucky, who swung around, his insides melting into an angry need to reach. It scratched at his chest, clawing its way inside of him. Steve grunted again as two doctors kept him steady and a third was doing something; he sounded so repressed as if he didn’t want to put even more pressure on the doctors (who were already all too aware of the pain that they were causing him and the strict time frame they were operating under).

_For some reason, it always takes longer. The pain, the brunt of it._

Bucky blinked once, twice, the idea of Steve suffering so preposterous, so horrifying that his mind couldn’t comprehend it. The _unfairness_ of it.

“Let me in.” His voice sounded thick, worn out. “Let me go to him, Clint. Let me in!” The bloodied Avenger nodded sharply and pressed his hand against a screen. The doors swished open and Bucky walked inside, ignoring the perplexed shouts of the doctors.

“I’m here, Steve!” Bucky said as if his words made actually sense, as if they had agreed long time ago that he was essential to Steve’s well-being. He bit the inside of his cheek hard even as his hands hovered over Steve’s naked arm, unable to touch and yet craving it more than he’d ever craved anything in his life.

However, all his doubts suddenly shattered when Steve raised his head, his blue eyes piercing and raw. “ _Bucky_.” His name had never sounded like that, an equal curse and a blessing. “ _Bucky_ ,” Steve sobbed again.

There had been a few moments of clarity in Bucky’s life but all of them had lacked the eloquence of that particular moment when he reached his hands out to Steve, cupping his cheeks, and leaned his forehead against his.

“I’m here,” Bucky said. And he sounded like so much more than his mere physical presence. “I’m here. I’ve got you, pal. I’m here now.” And Steve shuddered under his hands and breathed at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal gratitude will always go to [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for her patience with my story and my terrible mistakes. All the mistakes left are mine and mine alone. :)
> 
> Yes, I know that this is much later than I promised; while things haven't improved much in real life, I do want to persist and finish this story. So please, just hang on, I got this -- I think. :))) In the meantime, I'll need to change the day of the update to Friday. ~~So next week's chapter will be published on **Friday October 23rd**~~. This story will be updated some time this week (between 28th and 30th). Thank you all for the support and the kind messages. <3 I promise they were all much appreciated. :)


	9. In which there is comfort to be found in the arms of another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, how I like to call this chapter _There is comfort in using italics as much as I want_. I'm not even ashamed of it. ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

**PART ONE**

“How is he?” Becca asked at the other end of the line, her voice kind, soothing him like syrupy comfort.

Bucky shuffled on the couch, his fingers tightening on his mobile phone. “Better. He’s sleeping it off now.”

He could picture her understanding nod while her lips curled in a perfect moue of apprehension. Truthfully though, Bucky lacked the eloquent words to describe the entire afternoon he had just gone through with Steve. He pinched the bridge of his nose, one of his elbows digging into the meat of his thigh – a reminder that his helpless flesh and bones had seemed the only thing able to keep Steve whole and grounded. Bucky pressed harder into his thigh. Would he ever? Would he ever be able to describe the way Steve had sobbed his name when he caught a glimpse of him? _Bucky Bucky Bucky_. How could his name sound like _that_? How could his simple, slightly ridiculous name sound like a blessing, warm and innocuous?

Time had suspended its natural rhythm, the seconds and minutes stretched into deep breaths, into tender presses of forehead against forehead, into tiny touches that could comfort and break them asunder.

Bucky stood up and walked towards the enormous window that unleashed the beauty of Manhattan at night. He leaned with a forearm against it, his forehead resting on it. They had – Bucky bit his lip – they had created a world unto its own, conscious of each other and no one else, breathing each other in, Bucky generously pouring into Steve all the comfort he could offer. The gratefulness of being able to help him had been a bittersweet poison because Bucky had also had to face the reality of Steve’s solitude, of what might have been before. Who the hell had stayed by his side and had held on?

Bucky took in the breathless view. Doubts tiptoed their way back into his heart, bewitching his mind and making him wonder whether it was his place to ask such questions, or, better yet, to know their answers.

“How is he really?” Becca’s voice sounded hesitant and so far away.

“He’s going to be all right. He’s all healed up and sleeping it off.” Bucky checked his watch. “I think I’m going to stick around a while longer just in case he needs me or I don’t know – Jesus, it sounds so presumptuous!”

“It doesn’t, Bucky. Not really. You are his friend and he needs you, especially now. You’re allowed to be there for him and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that.” The warmth of her voice washed over him in a tremendous reassuring wave. “I’m glad to hear that he healed up. Please, give him a hug from us and wish him a speedy recovery, though, by the sound of it, he’s already there.”

“Yeah, he is.” Bucky stepped back and shoved his free hand into his pocket, avoiding the reflection of his own tired body. “What about you? Are you girls okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about us. We had some mashed potatoes and meatballs for dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. Bear is upstairs, taking some notes for her Science project and Bunny is staring at her wall – I think she’s plotting another change of colors.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Bucky gnawed at his bottom lip, the apprehension of being far from his sisters for the first time in four years chewing at him with greedy ferocity. “Tell them I love them and I’ll be home soon. Please call me if you need anything.”

“We’re okay, Bucky. You’re allowed to have a night off, you know. You don’t have to be with us all the time.”

 _Yes, yes, I do. You’re mine to protect and mine to take care of_. But the rawness of such an answer wouldn’t sit well with either of them right now – they both had issues related to the fear of losing each other and being left without one another, so Bucky wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole. Not right now when he felt flayed open and left raw for all to see.

Instead he said, “I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be worried.”

“Yes, you can. But you don’t have to be.” Becca’s little sigh echoed on the line. “I already locked everything for the night and made sure everything is off. Also, I already spoke with Thiago for tomorrow morning.”

“You shouldn’t have. I could have –”

“You could have what? Come home?” When she spoke again, her voice sounded more determined, “Of course you could have. And you still can. But what I am trying to say is that it’s okay to be there as well if that is what you want.”

“I do.” The words rushed out of his mouth like a tumultuous cascade. He cleared his voice and turned away from the window, returning to the couch. “At least until he wakes up anyway.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Becca’s voice turned softer still. “Steve is your friend. If you want to spend the night there to make sure he’s all right, that’s fine with us. We’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“I constantly worry about you.”

“I know, but you don’t have to tonight. But if you decide to stay there overnight, just make sure that you text me, okay? Just so I know we shouldn’t be waiting for you.”

“Of course I will, though I don’t think that’s the case.”

“I think that is very much the case actually.” Another moment of silence. “How’s your headache?” Becca asked at last.

“How do you know I had a headache?”

“You had your mug out and enough medication to cure a small country of headaches. So I spoke with Dugan.”

“Oh man, Dugan knows about this?”

“He sure does.”

“Damn it!”

“What do you know, those were exactly his words.”

“I bet they were.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll be honest, I completely forgot about the mess I left in the living room. Sorry.” Bucky closed his eyes and leaned his head on the backrest of the couch. “The headache is gone. Well, there is still an echo of it, but it’s not that bad. I hope it didn't signal the beginning of a cold; you know how I usually go.”

“I hope so too. But ask them to give you something in case it gets worse again.”

“I don’t want to –”

“Don’t say you don’t want to bother them,” Becca interrupted him rather rudely. “That would be silly of you and I don’t think you want to sound silly.”

“Fine, I won’t.”

“Bucky.”

He sighed. “Okay, I will. Jeez, who’s the older sibling here anyway, you or me?”

“ _Me_ for sure.” Becca’s smile was palpable across the line. “Okay, dear brother of mine, I’ll let you rest a little. Don’t forget to text me if you stay there overnight and take care of yourself.”

“I will, you too. Let me know if you girls need me or something.”

“I promise we’ll be okay tonight.” Her warmth and love wrapped around him like a shielding blanket. “I love you, Bucky. Stay safe.”

“I love you too.”

“I know.” Another small sigh. “Give Steve a hug and I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay.”

“Okay. G’night.”

“G’night.”

Bucky hung up and opened his eyes, sighing a little, then straightened up and looked around the vast living room, unsure of what to do next. He took in the room. All the furniture looked out of a designer’s catalogue, cozy and modern, gorgeous and sleek, although there was absolutely no sign of Steve’s personality there. Had he not been to Steve's home, Bucky would have admired his surroundings more, he would have allowed himself to be fooled. But now he had become an expert in Steve’s imprint on things, his adorable and only apparent messiness, his obsession with fleecy and soft-looking comforters. And there was none of that here; just a few books that looked more part of the decoration than anything else, a week-old newspaper on the coffee table next to a couple of remote controls that looked part of the central command of a space ship rather than turning on or off the sleek TV on the side.

But the couch was inviting, pulling Bucky tighter under its charms, the pillows soft and cozy, a green comforter arrangedinconspicuously on one of the armrests. He glanced at the door that had earlier taken him to Steve's bedroom.

“Jarvis?” he asked softly, not taking his eyes from the door.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?” the AI answered promptly.

“How is Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is still sleeping but his vitals are good.”

“Thank you.” His muscles relaxed a little further. “And Clint? Is he all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton received medical care and is now resting as well.”

“That’s good to know.” Bucky bit his bottom lip, awkwardness and uncertainty mixing bitterly on his tongue. “Am I allowed to stay here until Steve wakes up or should I leave?”

“Mr. Barnes, nothing would give more pleasure to Captain Rogers than to have you here when he wakes up. As I mentioned before, you are allowed to several wings and your access has been confirmed with Mr. Stark. I can assure you that your presence here is more than welcome.”

Bucky blushed a little as he played with the hem of his hoodie. When they brought Steve back here, it was a given that Bucky would accompany him – the way their hands touched, holding on to each other, Steve unable to let go of his hand, even when they maneuvering him into a comfortable position proved to be difficult because of that. However, if Bucky had been honest, he would have confessed to how tethered he felt too, how grounded, by that simple hold.

“Do you want me to turn the TV on?” Jarvis asked.

“Could you?” Bucky smiled at the ceiling. “The remote controls look like I’m about to light up the whole of New York or get in touch with unsuspecting aliens."

“Naturally, we do keep such technology, however its usage is strictly restricted.” Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly open. “I jest, sir.”

“Of course you do,” Bucky mumbled, taking his hoodie off. He should start taking just about everything Jarvis said to him with a grain of salt. “I thought you were unable to perform such tasks.”

“One does endeavor to try though. Would sir prefer something in particular?”

“A documentary? Maybe about wolves? I always liked wolves.”

“Of course, sir. I shall attempt to find one for you. I am going to turn on the TV now, Mr. Barnes.”

“You know you could always call me Bucky.”

“Or Buchanan.”

Bucky grimaced. “Maybe not that.” He chuckled. “Are you mocking me again, Jarvis?”

“As I said before, sir, that is beyond my capabilities.”

“And as I said before, I don’t believe that.”

The TV was turned on and the channels were flicked – weird, it was as if Bucky had a friendly ghost as a flat mate – until Jarvis found a documentary for him. Bucky made himself comfortable. He carefully folded his hoodie and put it on the coffee table, setting his phone and keys on top of it, then he laid down and wrapped himself into that green comforter, effectively transforming into a tired burrito. The day had faded away, the dark palette of the night plunging Manhattan in a battleground between shadow and light, the huge shadows of the skyscrapers, silent like mastodons, contrasting with the dark sky and the orange hues of the street lights further below.

It was a tremendous urban landscape to behold, yet Bucky was glad that Steve no longer lived here. Somehow it just didn’t sit well with him to have Steve in a place like this: modern and sleek and utterly bereft of warmth. Not even the cityscape that sprawled shamelessly in front of those enormous windows could win Bucky over.

He burrowed further under the comforter and lost himself to the documentary that told the story of a pack of wolves in Alaska, the day melting away behind him. His utter fascination with the wolves and their complex system of interactions had gripped his attention tight enough that he didn’t hear the bedroom door open until Steve Rogers actually leaned against the doorframe.

Bucky immediately stood up, the comforter pooling around his waist. In the dark blue light of the room, silence suddenly painted the atmosphere around them, the narrator of the documentary droning on about wolf cubs and their nutritionregime. Steve looked soft and warm in just a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, so removed from the impenetrable figure that Captain America promoted, alive and real.

“Are you okay?” Bucky whispered, unwilling to shatter the tranquility between them, but needing to know.

“Yes.”

_Something had changed._

Bucky’s hands griped the comforter tighter. Uncertainty reared its ugly head again. The longer Steve stood there, immovable and quiet, the more he appeared remote and afar, a silent Atlas obscured by the suffering that he had gone through that day. Had Bucky reached for him, he wouldn’t have been able to touch him, like a mirage in the desert. How could they have held on to each other so tightly and whole only to be so far apart right now? There were just a few steps between them, but the chasm that yawned its ugly void seemed bottomless.

Bucky swallowed hard. Was he unwelcome? Was he not supposed to be there? He had asked about clearance and permissions but he hadn’t bothered thinking about what Steve would want. Yet… no, Steve didn’t look upset or angry or even bothered that Bucky was there. It was as if –

It was as if they had been two different people before that afternoon, two people that didn’t have much in common to begin with, yet somehow insisting on being friends. Now, here they were, two people changed, as if they had crossed a bridge they hadn’t known about and had come out on the other side, antithetic to those that had begun the journey in the first place.

_Something had changed._

Heart suddenly hammering against his chest, Bucky pulled the comforter aside, a wordless invitation if there’d ever been one. Blue eyes, dark and obscure, took in the gesture; then, just as ice could melt, so did Steve’s entire demeanor changed. It took only a few blinks for him to join Bucky on the couch. He laid down with careful and precise moves, yet latching on to Bucky as if the flimsiest breeze could pull them apart.

Refusing to doubt himself, Bucky pulled the comforter around them, engulfing both of them into that snug shield, then he wrapped one arm around Steve’s shoulders and one around his waist, a leg between Steve’s legs.

Bucky’s both hands travelled on Steve’s back, across those places where there should have been some bandages, some wounds, or, at the very least, some scars to prove that the pain had existed, that it had been there, a physical reminder if nothing else.

Steve cuddled against Bucky’s chest, making himself smaller still.

_Steve Steve Steve_

Something wild finally loosened inside of Bucky, allowing him to properly breathe now that he had Steve in his arms. The comfort it gave him to feel the scorching line of Steve’s body against his, the relief at holding him in his arms, whole and anew, breathing and free of pain. Bucky’s fingers pressed harder against the taut muscles of Steve’s back. How could one cope with going through something like that and not have any physical reminder of it? How would that play with this man’s mind? A brilliant man, but a man nonetheless.

Steve hid his face in the crook between Bucky’s shoulder and neck and breathed him in, his own breath ghosting on fragile skin, his cold nose pressing against tendons and flesh. Impetuously, Bucky’s fingers sneaked underneath Steve’s t-shirt, his fingertips brushing against unblemished skin as if he was searching for the physical proof that Steve was truly all right. How smooth and remarkably warm the skin was! There was nothing, he was healed and whole and real. But Bucky’s mind couldn’t compute this fact. Had Steve not bled just a few hours before? Had that flesh not been cut and burnt by shrapnel? His hands sprawled on Steve’s scorching skin and held and held.

“I am okay, Buck,” Steve muttered, his lips brushing against Bucky’s skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Bucky shuddered and held tighter. “But you weren’t,” he sobbed and his fingers dug deeper still. “ _You weren’t_.”

Steve tightened his own grip on Bucky, his fingers grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt. They were a mess of limbs and soft cloth, shallow breaths and lingering touches. “You were there,” Steve mumbled. “You helped. I never thought I’d get to have this. A – um, a friend like you. Thank you, Buck. I know how hard it must have been for you, but –” Words withered away on Steve’s lips.

 _A friend_. Truly, were they friends? Could that word embody what Bucky was feeling at the moment?

“It was hard, I won’t lie,” Bucky nuzzled at his cheek. “But only because I don’t like to see you in pain. But I’m glad that I was able to be there for you.” Bucky’s fingers pressed deeper still. The entire afternoon lingered like the scent of singed material between them. “I am glad you’re safe now,” he whispered into the non-existent space between them. “I don’t regret coming here and being there for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And I’m grateful that you’re here with me.” The honesty curling around each word was overwhelming and Bucky just allowed himself to breathe in the silence of the room and small warm space they had created for themselves.

The ghost of the words that couldn’t be spoken between them, the fragility of the moment became thus the necessary impulse for Bucky to ask, “Do you want me to stay overnight?”

Steve’s muscles loosened further, yet his voice came out raspy and low. “I’d like that.” Another drop of silence then, “Only if you want to, of course, you’re under no obligation whatsoever. You’ve already done so much for me, Buck. I couldn’t possibly ask more or –”

“Steve, it’s all right. You’re rambling, pal.” Bucky kept his touches kind and tender. “I will stay if you need me here. I just need to text Becca, make sure she knows.” A tiny move had Steve tilt his head and look at Bucky, his gaze so blue and infinite. “My sisters,” he stuttered, his tongue clumsy and thick under that piercing gaze, “my sisters said to give you an extra hug and say they’re happy you’re all right.”

“I see.” Bucky felt pinned under Steve’s blue gaze. “I’ll need to speak with them and thank them for their kindness.”

Bucky nodded and straightened up a little, then grabbed his phone from the coffee table and texted Becca, making sure she was aware of his decision and insisting that they should call him, should they need anything. Then he turned the phone on silent and put it back on the table, returning his attention to the man in his arms.

He pulled Steve further into his embrace, his back cushioned by the fluffy pillows. They arranged the comforter around them, snug and cosy, and allowed each other to breathe again, the entire room plunging into darkness as Jarvis switched off the TV.

Bucky’s world had titled off its axis. Ever since the dinner and seeing Steve in his own home – Bucky couldn’t say what had made it real, but somehow, it was as if Steve Rogers had gained his own reality, his own dimension. He had secured his place as a real person that bled and could be broken too.

As Bucky’s fingertips travelled up and down Steve’s back, a visceral need to protect Steve at all costs suddenly buried itself inside of him so deep that Bucky couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed and raw. Had the need arisen in that very moment, he would have cracked open his chest and let Steve burrow inside of him – _holding him close, holding him safe_ – _holding him holding him –_

_Holding him._

✧

They slept on the couch.

When the grey light of the day crept around them, it was Bucky that woke up first. He blinked several times, hot and heavy, his back snuggled up against Steve’s warm chest, legs entwined, heavy arms around his waist. A solid line of heat against his body. Scorching breath against his nape.

He swallowed several times. The bittersweet taste of waking up next to someone scorched its way through him, piercing every single defense he had built around his heart. _He had forgotten_. He had forgotten the sweetness of being so close to someone, the intimacy of it, alluring and pleasantly simmering under his skin; he had forgotten how whole poems could take shape on smooth skin, how the drowsiness of arms wrapped around his body brought the sweetest burden, tender and real.

His body was languid and pleasantly surprised by the closeness of another, the simmering desire pooling low into his belly natural and real. The thump in his chest sped up a little when other parts of him began to awaken too. His fingers convulsed on Steve’s arms, dipping into searing skin like he had all the right to it.

Bucky took a shuddering breath in, then out, then in again, embarrassment burning bitingly on his tongue. It did nothing to soothe him as one of Steve’s broad palms slipped to his stomach, his pinky finger catching a bit of skin through Bucky’s bunched up t-shirt. Another shuddering breath. Such a tiny touch to affect him so! He licked his lips in a poor attempt to calm his nerves, praying to anyone who listened for Steve not to wake up and catch him in such an embarrassing state. The poor guy had just gone through a terrible experience, he really didn’t need Bucky lusting over him as well, though the realness of Steve made him all the more entrancing.

There had been rare moments in recent years for Bucky to simply be in the moment with someone else, to share the intimacy of a singular kind that allowed him to relax in the arms of another. He closed his eyes again and relished the moment. Yet, how uncompromisingly uncomplicated was such a moment! Desire paled in comparison with the tenderness of such a moment, the genuine quality of it.

Bucky allowed himself another few minutes to enjoy the sensation of being wrapped in Steve’s arms, the natural belonging of it, before he decided that it was time to extricate himself. Relishing too much in the moment would be such a sweet torture, one Bucky would end up regretting later on when he would be back in his own bed and his arms would wrap around a pillow and the loneliness of the recent years would press around him like unmerciful walls.

Had someone filmed the way he managed to gradually crawl out of Steve’s arms, his friend making a disgruntled noise of displeasure at the proceedings, it would have made top comedy. Wriggling had never been as ridiculous as the way Bucky twisted and writhed out of those rock-hard arms and the snuggly comforter. When he stood up at last, he covered Steve with the comforter and softly, _oh_ _so softly_ , ran his fingers through Steve’s hair so he could settle. He bit his lip then headed to the bathroom because continuing to stare like a weirdo at Steve was something even he didn’t dare to do.

Once he closed the door of the bathroom behind him, he leaned against it and sucked in a deep breath, willing his body to forget about the proximity of Steve’s enthralling body. He blinked in the harsh light and ran his fingers through his hair convulsively. Did he come here to take care of his friend or lust after him? Shame pulsed sharp and unendurable. He pulled in another deep breath then pushed away from the door once he brought his heart back under control.

After he took care of his daily ablutions and brushed his teeth with the spare brush he found laying inconspicuously for him to find, Bucky returned to the living room to check on Steve, who was still sleeping. Satisfied with the relaxed stoop of Steve’s shoulders, Bucky grabbed his phone and, resisting the temptation to crawl back on the couch with Steve, he headed to the kitchen, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

It was an airy room with dark green furniture and brown countertops, the grey fridge looming in the corner like the humming king of a forgotten kingdom. Bucky made a beeline for it and he was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was fully stocked. He opened a few cupboards and drawers to familiarize himself with the layout, where he could find utensils and skillets, a pan or two, then nodded to himself. He was going to prepare a breakfast for Steve that would make even a Michelin chef weep in envy.

After setting up the coffee maker and letting it gurgle cheerfully by the window, Bucky started to pull out all the ingredients that he needed for his menu, including bacon and about two dozen eggs. He could remember how generously Steve had helped himself from the food he’d been served, each time eating triple the quantity that a normal man would usually eat.

“Jarvis, good morning. Are you there?” he asked abruptly, feeling a little silly for talking to the ceiling.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes. Indeed I am here. How may I help you?”

“Could you please put some music on while I cook?”

“Sure, sir. Any preference?”

“No. Maybe something mellow? To suit the day?”

“Of course.”

Soft tunes of what sounded like an eighties station filled in the room, adding pleasantly to the tranquility of the morning. Not even the grey skies outside could deter Bucky from feeling content. His phone vibrated on the countertop and Bucky grinned when he noticed Becca had sent him a photo, his sisters holding cups of coffee or hot chocolate, grinning inside of Becca’s car. They had clearly decided to make a girls’ morning out of it and his heart pleasantly pumped inside of him, full of love and affection for them. He sent them back heart emojis, although he restrrained himself from taking a selfie in Steve’s kitchen. He took a photo of Steve’s coffee maker and commented back that he’d drink it all by himself. The girls sent him a flurry of emojis stretching from the laughing one to the multitude of coffee cups they could find.

Bucky shook his head, his smile threatening to gloriously remain etched on his lips for the remainder of the day. He adored the lovely sound of the sizzling bacon, the entrancing scent of warm toast – a pleasure that couldn’t be taken away even by the fact that he was cooking in the first place.

He had just finished preparing the bacon, adding the finishing touches to his famous scrambled eggs when Jarvis stopped the music abruptly and spoke calmly, “Mr. Barnes, Ms. Romanov requests permission to enter the apartment.”

Bucky’s hand stilled on the skillet. “Um, well, Steve isn’t up yet, so maybe she could return a little later.” But the slight tilt of his words made the entire phrase sound more like an actual question than a mild suggestion.

“She wishes to speak with you, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky carefully set the hot skillet on the counter and stared down at the brown countertop, his shoulders a hard line of rigid muscles. Why did she want to speak with him? Did she want to find out his reasons for being here? To scold him for having the audacity to come to the Tower? Whatever her intentions were, he didn’t trust them, and he was under no obligations to listen to her.

Apprehension spread its black wings across the kitchen, wrapping itself carefully around Bucky’s shoulders. He fiddled with the tomatoes, in impasse.

Just this once. He’d listen to her just this once and then he’d see.

He licked his lips. “If – if something happens, could you please wake up Steve?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky nodded to himself, though the dread persisted. “My request won’t be overridden by her authority?”

“No, Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis promptly replied. “I can assure you I will intervene as soon as you request. Please also be advised that I am authorized not to let Ms. Romanov enter the apartment if you so choose to.”

Bucky glanced out on the window, his hands resting on the counter. This was a discussion long time in the making so he needed to pull up his big boy pants and have it. At least he’d know where he stood. “Thank you, Jarvis. You can allow her in.”

“Certainly, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky decided as soon as he had met Natasha Romanov that she wasn’t a woman to trifle with; playing any sort of games with her would only end up in loss. Hence, he didn’t pretend that he was busy preparing breakfast when she came into the kitchen. He simply faced the doorway, arms by his side, his chin jutting a little. Yet, for all the mental preparations, he wasn’t prepared for how – dare he say it? – soft she looked that morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” she greeted as if she had just joined him in an official meeting, although they were both dressed in sweats and t-shirt, loungewear for the rainy days that gripped New York these days. Her hair was caught in a messy bun and for all intents and purposes, she looked like just another jaded thirty-year-old New Yorker, working too many hours and having too little sleep. 

“Good morning, Ms. Romanov.” Bucky pushed the words through his teeth, all of them heavy like stones. “How may I help you?”

“I wish to speak with you while Steve still recovers.” Romanov tilted her head and stared at him. She pulled out one of the chairs furthest from him and casually sat at the table. However, there was no casual bone in this woman – Bucky was aware that his resentment made her appear tougher, cold like a slab of granite.

“I thought you might.” Bucky forced his hands to move and even point to the full pot of coffee. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please. Black, no sugar.” Bucky stepped towards the coffee maker only to realize that he had no goddamn clue where the mugs were. “Second shelf on your left,” she added as if she had just read his mind, a strong possibility with an Avenger such as herself. Bucky nodded in thanks and followed her instruction, a few immaculate mugs sitting inconspicuously behind closed doors. Bucky chose a blue one for him and a green one for her and poured generously from the coffee pot, then carefully set one in front of her, taking a few steps back, ensuring that he kept a practical distance between him and her.

“I make you uncomfortable,” Romanov casually mentioned as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Well, we didn’t exactly meet under the most auspicious circumstances, did we?” Bucky put his mug down and chose to slice some tomatoes, his whole body slightly tilted towards her.

“No, we did not. And you resent me for that.”

“I do.”

“Although the threat to Steve’s safety was legitimate.”

“Yes.”

“Because I accused you specifically?”

“Probably.”

“Or because I didn’t apologize for it.”

“That too.” Bucky put the sliced tomatoes on a plate and began cutting some cucumbers as well. Silence stretched like an elastic cord about to snap.

“I won’t apologize for that morning if that is what you are waiting for,” she said after a while. “The threat was legitimate and all evidence pointed to you. There were rightful concerns that someone might have coerced you into doing something to Steve’s bike.”

“Yes, I’ve been told before.” Bucky arranged the slices of cucumber on the plate, next to the tomatoes, staring at them. “It doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t. However, if you are to keep this friendship with Steve, you must understand the world he lives in.”

“The world he lives in?”

Her grip on the mug turned white-knuckled. “Steve likes to pretend that he’s just Steve Rogers, your goody-two-shoes neighbor. But he’s also Captain America and he can’t escape that. Unfortunately, this means living in a world where some people would do just about anything to get their hands on Steve, on the symbol he represents, on the man that he is.”

“He is more than a symbol.”

“Maybe. But how many people truly believe that?” Natasha took another sip of coffee as Bucky gave up the thought of slicing more vegetables and instead turned towards her, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. Her eyes bore into him. “You know how you stormed the Tower for him? How you literally entered an operation room for him? _That_ feeling right there? That’s what made me be so protective of him as well. And I won’t apologize for that. He’s been betrayed far too many times to take any threat to his safety lightly.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you really?” Those obsidian eyes narrowed at him, pinning him down. “ _Can you_? Really? Think about the worst feeling of betrayal that you’ve ever experienced throughout your life, and then multiply it by the dozen. Over and over again. Then maybe, just maybe, you could finally begin to comprehend what this way of life has meant for him.”

“I think I proved my loyalty to him.” Bucky replied in a harsher tone than what he meant, however, refusing to allow himself to be intimidated by her. “To him _and_ to you, for that matter. To Clint. I wouldn’t do anything that could hurt Steve.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed further. “Even if your sisters would be in danger?” Her words flayed him open like tiny sharp blades. “You already lost your parents. Can you honestly tell me that if your sisters were in danger, if their lives hung in the balance, you wouldn’t betray him to save them?”

“Wouldn’t you have to make the same choice if you were to choose between Clint and Steve?” He snapped back. Admitting that for the conundrum that it was would have tasted too much like defeat, especially to her. He loathed the way her granite eyes took in his form as if she was weighing all his past sins and finding him lacking. Pressing on the personal side of this argument wouldn’t endear him to her, not that anything would anyway. “I’d find a way,” he insisted, his voice coming out hard and decisive. “I’d find a way to keep him and them safe.”

“A noble intent, though utterly naive of you.” Had Bucky been bold, he would have said that there was even a tiny amount of pity slithering through her eyes.

“Perhaps.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. “However, I’d like to think I’d try at least. I’d fight tooth and nail for my sisters, for my family. Maybe this doesn’t count much in your world, God knows I have no superpowers to begin with, and I sincerely don’t want them anyways. Maybe it sounds naive and foolish and you, who faced so many challenges throughout your life, might find all of this highly ridiculous. Of course you do. But in my world that counts for something and that’s all I want. I can honestly say I’d fight tooth and nail for him too because he’s worth it. Not because he’s Captain America, but because he’s my friend Steve, who likes sandwiches a tad more than is generally considered healthy, who has a secret or not so secret garden in goddamn New York of all places, and whose art is incredible.”

Her stare lost itself in the distance. “You might fail.”

“Or I might not.” Bucky smirked, suddenly feeling a lot more cocky than the current situation demanded of him. “I might have just the right kind of friends that could help me protect Steve. In fact, my friend Darrell keeps insisting I might have more special friends, should I require one.” Bucky stared into her eyes, determined and stubborn. “So yeah, I guess all I hope is when push comes to shove, I’ll always make the right call and pull through.”

They stared at each other – two people coming from diametrically opposed worlds – trying to find common ground for the sake of a person they both cared about. In a kitchen no less. But the stoop of her shoulders, the grim line of her jaw reminded him of someone else. It suddenly hit him that Romanov looked exactly like Steve – the weight of the world on her shoulders, pressing each time harder and harder still – a woman that must have known loss as intimately as he did, more so probably.

“You are something else, Mr. Barnes,” she admitted at long last, a note of defeat dipped in her whiskey-smooth voice.

“So I’ve been told lately. A lot actually.” Bucky’s lips quirked into a more sincere smile, the honesty of their discussion pulsing inside of him, filling him in with the righteousness of a good decision. He was grateful that he had the possibility to have this chat with her, that they were able to show their cards and speak freely of things that they had not been able to otherwise.

He returned to the dirty dishes, deciding it was high time to clean up the kitchen before Steve woke up. The discussion or whatever the hell that had been – it had sounded vaguely like measuring egos or something – had reached it natural end. He turned on the water and grabbed a plate when Romanov spoke again.

“I’d fight tooth and nail for your sisters too. Don’t think for a moment that I wouldn’t do that for them. For you.” Bucky’s expression must have morphed into one of utter disbelief but he kept his hands busy with the dirty dishes, even as something hot and sticky clawed its way inside his chest. “Just as you were there for Clint when you had no obligations towards him.” He allowed her another moment of silence, the quietness of the morning catching up with them. He appreciated the thought and was about to say as much, when she mumbled carefully, “For what it is worth in your world, I’m sorry.”

Precarious and more fragile than the tiny wings of a butterfly, the moment stretched between them, offering the impression that any wrong move might have broken the spell. Yet there would be no other flourishes. She didn’t seem a woman prone to them anyway; on the contrary, instinct told Bucky that she would be the type of person to prove her choices through her behavior rather than words. For a person that had constantly battled perceptions of her and her teammates, she must have become distrustful of words.

So Bucky tilted his head and nodded once. It should be enough, the silence now melting away into peacefulness as she watched him wash dishes.

“Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis tuned in again, “Mr. Barton and Lucky would like to join you for breakfast since Ms. Romanov is already here.”

Bucky raised his eyes heavenward though, most likely, he’d find just an AI rather than a godly being. “How is Steve supposed to get some rest with all of this? But sure, please let him in.”

“Steve lost his hope of a nice rest in this apartment a long time ago.” Bucky turned around to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorway with slighty puffy eyes, bedhead, and the most adorable smile ever. Bucky’s mouth turned dry at the warm sight of him.

“Steve should stop talking about himself in third person,” Bucky grumped as he finally put away the last skillet that he’d used. “Also, breakfast is served.”

“Bucky, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?” Incredulity suited Steve rather well, Bucky concluded. “Buck, you’ve already done so much.”

“Good morning to you too, Nat,” Romanov commented in the background. “Why, I’m fine, thank you for asking, Steve.”

“Good morning Nat.” Steve rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, passing by Bucky and gently running a hand over Bucky’s back. Bucky’s cheeks heated up and he bowed his head slightly, pretending to be preoccupied by the drying dishes.

“Good morning everyone,” Clint said as he came in. Bucky gaped a little at his get up: a purple t-shirt that matched his purple hearing aids (or the other way around) and patterned pajama pants, also a glaring shade of purple, looking for all intents and purposes like a purple candy. Except his left arm was in a sling, a bitter reminder that he lacked any super-healing powers. “Awww, food! Awesome!” Lucky barked once as if in greeting, keeping so close to his master that he made Clint trip twice before the guy finally managed to sit at the table.

Bucky shook his head and pushed away from the counter, choosing a seat next to Steve, their knees bumping into each other. They peered at each other through their eyelashes, comfortable and warm, happy to be there in the moment.

“Bucky, you’re my new favorite person!” Clint said as Lucky curled into a sleepy mess of fur and limbs at Romanov’s feet, drawing a tiny smile to her lips. Huh, maybe she wasn’t so bad after all!

“Why? Because I made breakfast?” Bucky asked as he helped himself to toast and some bacon.

“Because you made coffee.” Clint gulped half of his coffee cup, making cooing noises to it once he took a breather.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him then turned to Romanov without even questioning his reaction. “Should I be concerned?”

Romanov waved her hand dismissively. “Clint has a thing for coffee – don’t even go there, for your own sanity.” Bucky nodded – a perfectly acceptable response from the woman that Bucky had the vague impression could be considered an encyclopedia in all Clint matters.

“Don’t listen to the mean lady, baby!” Clint mumbled to the mug, taking another long sip from his coffee, his hand rubbing at it as if it was Aladdin's lamp. Lucky grunted softly at his feet. “You know I’ll always have your back.”

“I’ll be honest, this is freaking me out.”

“ _This_ is freaking you out?” Romanov’s twitch of lips widened. “You should hear Stark talking to his coffee. Now that I think of, his record must be six cups in one hour.”

“What the hell?” Bucky shook his head, glancing sideways at her. “How was he even functioning by that point?”

“He wasn’t! Let’s just say, Pepper had a conversation with him,” Steve answered, moaning a little around his scrambled eggs, “to put the fear of God in him. He restricts himself to three in an hour now.”

“Um, how is _that_ better?”

“I have no clue but –”

“What is this?” Stark exclaimed as he opened the door to the kitchen dramatically. Bucky choked and Steve had to clap him on the back several times before he could stop coughing. Nat and Clint didn’t even bother raising their eyes from their plates.

“What the hell, Stark?” Bucky scowled, his eyes still tearing up.

“What the hell indeed, Buckaroo?” Stark scowled right back. “A breakfast in my house to which I have not been invited?”

Bucky blinked at the nickname, then glared at the billionaire (trillionaire? zillionaire? how exactly rich was Stark?). “Technically, it’s Steve’s apartment.”

“Technically, it’s my building. I win!” Stark crowed as he made a beeline for the coffee pot and poured whatever coffee was left in it. Then he grabbed the chair by the window and pulled it obnoxiously towards the table, shoving Steve into Bucky. They both rolled their eyes in unison; however, Bucky bit down the acidic reply on his tongue since the whole casual thing spoke volumes about the trust they had just bestowed upon him. Bucky felt oddly touched.

That was until Stark opened his mouth again, “I demand reimbursement. A curse upon your houses for lacking the necessary decorum to invite me to join you for breakfast.”

“Tony, please, shut up and grab a plate. You’re giving me a headache,” Steve muttered as his friend literally did just that. Huh, maybe Steve had magical powers after all.

“You know what’s the best medicine for headaches.” Stark grinned like a shark as he helped himself to a healthy scoop of scrambled eggs too. This time, everyone at the table groaned in unison, then laughed upon hearing their common reaction.

“Yes, Tony, we all know, but you don’t have to say it.” Steve glanced at Bucky, his blue eyes soft and kind. “Let’s pretend, for Bucky’s sake, that we can have a normal breakfast like any other normal people.”

“Ewww, who’d want so much normalcy in their lives in the first place?” Bucky would have been offended by this, had some ketchup not stuck to the corner of Stark’s lips, making him look like a jittery vampire.

“Ignore him please.” Steve knocked their knees together. Bucky smiled at him. “He had too much coffee already.”

“Excuse you? I’d like to inform you I only had two cups.”

Steve took one look at him, gave him the patented _Captain America is disappointed in you son_ look and said, “Jarvis?”

“Sir has had three cups already,” Jarvis promptly snitched, “and has been awake since four o’clock in the morning.”

Stark rolled his eyes, a little high-strung around the eyes now that Bucky thought better of it. “Jarvis, am I not your wonderful and exceptional creator?”

“Sir is right.”

“Did I or did I not add an addendum by which you should always be loyal to me?”

“Yes, sir indeed did that.” Jarvis ignored Stark’s crow of victory to add, “However, it was also sir that stipulated that I should ignore the said addendum when it came to sir’s safety.”

“No one likes to be reminded of such misgivings, Jarvis, my friend,” Stark muttered into his eggs, pretending that his piece of toast was suddenly much more interesting than what Jarvis was saying.

“I wish I could say we aren’t always like this,” Steve said, bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s, his smile a thing of beauty, “but we’re pretty much always like this.”

“And yet you love us, Cap,” Clint chimed in as they all pretended that they didn’t see how he had just slipped some bacon to Lucky.

“I don’t remember saying such things. Ever.”

“Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that,” Stark joined the banter, his whole face lit up in glee. “Oh, Buckaroo, let me tell you about that one time Cap here was dosed with the finest truth serum formula.”

Steve’s cheeks heated up. He reached for Stark, but his friend was too fast and smirked. “Tony, please.”

Naturally, Stark ignored him completely. Grinning more sharply, he followed up with, “it was a beautiful morning in May –”

“It was April,” Clint mumbled, mouth half-full of toast.

“Fine,” Stark rolled his eyes like a petulant five-year-old, “it was a beautiful morning in April when Cap here decided it was a good idea to storm a Hydra sleeper cell headquarters by himself. Therefore, it shouldn’t have come as a shock when everything went down the drain.” And Stark began telling a confabulated story involving actual cells, a laboratory, two Hydra henchmen and enough truth serum to poison half of Manhattan. All the while Steve smiled and interjected in all the right places, bursting out in righteous diatribes when Stark seemed to exaggerate, all the while warm and safe.

✧

“I feel stupid for saying this,” Steve said as they stared at each other in the lobby, “but do you have to go?” The shy smile that bloomed on those lips was devastating. They had left the other Avengers fighting in the kitchen about who should be in charge of the clean-up and the washing up, outrageous reasons bandied about such as _I brought Bucky to Cap_ to _I helped him carry that tray to the table_ to _I carried that chair, shut up, Barton, it’s not that funny_. Bucky had shaken his head and chosen his escape before they decided that _he_ might have had to clean up afterwards.

Weak at the knees, Bucky blushed as he shuffled on his feet, his smile just as timid. “It’s not stupid at all.” Bucky passed his fingers through his hair. “But yes, I have to go. You don’t want my sisters to invade this place, do you?”

“True that. Even Tony would feel intimidated by them. They would give a run for his money. Hmm, actually, maybe you staying isn’t such a bad idea.” Steve looked around him, then assured that they were in fact alone, he took a few steps towards Bucky, grabbing with two fingers the hem of Bucky’s hoodie and pulling him closer.

They were close enough to breathe in each other, the space between them made all the more small by Steve’s wider bulk. Warmth spread through Bucky like wild fire, a pleasant fluttering igniting into his stomach.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Steve muttered, staring at Bucky, blue eyes unfathomable and real. Bucky peered at him through his eyelashes: yeah, maybe Steve Rogers wasn’t the most attractive blusher in the world, but he sure as hell beat them all when it came to being utterly adorable.

 _I will always come for you_ , Bucky wanted to say, but what came out was, “You have nothing to thank me for. I’m glad that I was here for you.”

Steve stepped further into his space and leaned his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing him in softly. Bucky shuddered, the whole moment as fragile as spun glass. Yet the tenderness of it, simmering low and strong, wrapped around them. His own hands, willing and kind, curled around Steve’s hips and held on. Had the end of the world come in that moment he wouldn’t have let go. _Never_.

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Buck,” Steve confessed, tiny and fragile.

Bucky swallowed hard, but he remained silent, words scattering in his mind like snowflakes in the wind. The abrupt craving to breathe this man in, to have him tethered to him, to protect him at all costs, crashed against the edges of his consciousness, spilling messily inside of his heart. Bucky allowed a stuttering breath to come out, scrunching his eyes tighter still, relishing the moment, the closeness of it.

They allowed the moment to linger between them, bewildered and bewitched, the comfort of it, sweet and tender.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Bucky said when the closeness between them became overwhelming. The few words flew between them, fragile like butterfly wings, but enough to shatter a hurricane.

“Yes, Buck.” The melancholic twitch of Steve’s lips did nothing to assuage Bucky’s worry.

“Are you going to be all right?”

“I already am.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Bucky took a step back, letting go, his hands flexing convulsively, instinctually reaching for Steve.

Steve’s hand fell beside his body. He took a deep breath, maybe to steady himself or maybe to say something different than what he meant. In the end, what came out was, “I will be, I promise.”

“That’s better.” Steve rolled his eyes at him so Bucky chuckled, breathing a little easier. “I’ll speak to you soon, but I have to go now or my sisters will definitely storm the Tower.”

“I’ll be honest, that’s a scary possibility. No one can mess with the Barnes girls.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Bucky clapped him lightly on the shoulder – bone and sinew and tissue, just as fragile as any other man’s – and called for the elevator. “We still need to go to the Russian place, okay? Don’t think alien attacks in Pittsburg can get you out of this. And you’re buying, pal!”

“Sure thing, Buck.”

“Beefsteak was promised to me, Steve! I don’t joke about food.”

“I know, Buck, I know. Beefsteak shall be yours.”

Bucky grinned. “And don’t you forget about it, pal. I shall come collecting.”

“Go home, you dork.” Steve’s smile was glorious.

The elevator doors opened, but Bucky found the time to smirk. “Well, color me surprised. Captain America has the word dork in his vernacular.”

“Oh, gosh, Mr. Barnes, sir, those are mighty complicated words.” Steve grinned sharply like the little shit that he was.

Bucky snorted, then tried to hide it with a cough. “Make that a beefsteak _and_ that delicious bean broth they make.” Bucky scowled to get his point across and got into the elevator.

“You got it, Buck. Anything for you.”

“And you know it, pal.” Bucky waved like the dork he had just been accused of being as the doors closed at last. The smile remained with him, long after he had left Manhattan behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for your awesome beta skills and for your encouragement. As always, I'm eternally grateful. <3
> 
> My lovelies, it's clear now that updating this story once a week just isn't going to happen. I won't set a date anymore because the pressure to meet it is difficult, and then the disappointment of not meeting said deadline is unbearable. So I'd say every other week, there's going to be an update usually on a Wednesday/ Friday. Also, thank you so much for not giving up on this story and for all your wonderful comments and encouragements. <33 They always put a smile on my face. (｡◕‿◕｡)


	10. In which there is comfort to be found in the arms of another

**PART TWO**

As soon as Bucky walked inside the house, he was ambushed by his sisters.

“Are you okay? Is Steve okay?”

“Was he much in pain?”

“Was he badly hurt?”

“Is your headache still there?”

“Jesus!” Bucky actually took a step back as his sisters pressed against him. “I need room to breathe! Can’t you girls wait ten seconds?”

“Make that a minute and _then_ we want the full report, Bucky,” Becca said as she leaned against the hall stand. She was wearing her favorite blue apron with smiling tea cups, while the tea pot in the middle looked vaguely demented. Bunny and Bear, who were flanking her like loyal soldiers, nodded emphatically. Hawks had nothing on his younger sisters.

Any hope that he might have arrived home before them had been squashed by the terrible traffic in Manhattan, Bucky spending almost forty minutes on the bridge, which was enough for the terrible headache to catch up with him and remind him that it wasn’t going anywhere. Yet seeing the house made such relief rush through his veins he was dizzy with it. He had leaned his head against the steering wheel and had pulled in several shuddering breaths, grateful to be back to a more familiar ground.

“What she said!” Bunny crowed, her arms crossed and covering half of the writing on her paint-splattered sweatshirt, a long streak of green on the side of her jaw. Her eyes glimmered fierce and proud.

Bucky rolled his eyes at them but shoved his trainers off, bowing his head to hide the smile etched on his lips. Warmth bloomed inside his chest, welcoming and proud.

He pulled his hoodie off too and looked at his sisters, who watched him expectantly. Just to rib them on, he said, “God, don’t you have something better to talk about?”

“Well, Becca has a date later on,” Bear chimed in, “so we could talk about that. But that’s beside the point.”

A complete moment of silence where even a pin drop would have made more noise than Bucky’s shocked whoosh of breath. “How is _that_ beside the point?” Bucky threw his arms into the air, then scowled at his sisters. “I miss one day from home and Becca already has a date –”

“It’s just a date!”

“It’s not _just_ a date! You haven’t been on a date for the past year.”

“That you know of,” she mumbled under her breath. No, nope, Bucky wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Not at the moment anyway, not after the day he had just had.

“So here I was,” he rubbed at his forehead, as if the move would actually loosen the vice gripping his head, “innocently thinking I had the most interesting day when all along it was you guys that seemed to live all the excitement.”

“I began painting the wall in my room green,” Bunny interrupted him rather emphatically. “I’ll add some bursts of yellow to it later on.”

“Of course, yes, what was I thinking?” Bucky turned to Bear. “And you? Did you join a troupe of nomad actors in search of the perfect Shakespearean enactment?”

“Nope, and I’m not planning to. But it would have been fun to say yes.” Bear giggled when Bucky scowled at her playfully, then grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into the living room. They all pushed him to sit on the couch, Bear and Bunny sitting on each side of him, snuggling into his sides while Becca sat on the coffee table, a hand on his knee.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, a little lost, “I’ll tell you everything.” However, he wasn’t exactly truthful. Even surrounded by his sisters, filled to the brim with their love and care for him, he couldn’t quite confess to them the softness of the night he had just spent at the Tower. He couldn’t find it in himself to talk about the fragility of the hero that should have been so far removed from others, impenetrable and aloof. Instinct guided him around the more gruesome details, or the ones that would have revealed too much. No one had mentioned anything about what he was allowed to disclose and what he wasn’t, but the queasy feeling inside of him spoke louder than any interest to divulge any revelation.

Words were hard to find when it came to Steve’s gentleness, his careful arms around him, the way they had held on to each other – the warmth of it all pressed against Bucky like a finger to his lips, silencing all those words that could have easily waxed poetic about _Steve Steve Steve_

“Bucky?” Becca asked softly, so he shook his head when meeting his sister’s eyes.

When he spoke at last, the story gained another dimension – wrapped in the reality of their mundane lives, Bucky spoke about being received straight away and seeing Steve after the whole ordeal was over. He painted a general picture of solicitude and friendship and left everything at that.

“Girls,” he concluded, speaking softly, carefully watching them, “you do realize that whatever we speak about him and his situation, it will have to remain between us. This is not something to share with the world. I don’t want us to inadvertently put him in danger because we disclosed something by mistake.”

“Your warning comes kind of late, big bro,” Bunny spoke first. “Luckily for you, no one had to tell us this to understand that his privacy is important. Neither me nor Bear talked about him at school or with anyone else. Not even with Morgan. To be honest, we wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“Besides,” Bear shrugged, “I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Steve might have been hard on you in the beginning, but he’s always been kind to us. I wouldn’t want to hurt him in any way. It wouldn’t feel right.” Bear burrowed herself into his side. “But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah, he is. He’s already healed, which is stunning to say the least.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, shuddering at the thought of having seen Steve in pain and bleeding. “I’ll be honest, girls, that was a little unsettling though.”

“A little or a lot?”

“A lot.” Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is definitely not a world where we belong to.” And he wasn’t lying either. The Tower with all its decadent modernity and outlandish contraptions, Jarvis talking from everywhere and nowhere, medical wings that could rival a futuristic hospital – and above all, impenetrable men that healed quickly and smiled easily. Yes, the whole experience had been unforgettable, yet disquieting. “But Steve’s going to be okay, that’s the most important thing. He’s already recovered.”

“I’m glad that you were there for him.” Bear rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. “But, mostly, I’m just glad that he recovered and he’s going to be just fine. Did you get to see Clint or Lucky?”

“Funny you should mention that.” Bucky smirked. “I had breakfast with them.”

“You did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Okay, children, before you exchange further important jibes,” Becca interrupted them rather rudely, waving her hands around in the general sign of time-out, “are you telling us that you had breakfast with Clint Barton? _The_ Clint Barton? How is my date better news than _that_?”

“He’s nicer than I expected.” Bucky’s lips curled into a soft smile. “He acted as my guide when I arrived at the Tower.” A Virgil to his Dante, kind and still bleeding. Details he would never mention to his sisters.

“Oh, man, I wish I could have seen Lucky again,” Bear mumbled into his shoulder.

Bucky swallowed thickly and ran his hand through his hair, pulling a little, while careful not to jostle Bear too much. “I also spoke with Romanov.”

The girls fell silent, the tension thick like cream soup around them. Becca’s eyes narrowed at him, while Bear’ grip on his arm tightened on him. Bunny appeared to be the calmest out of all of them.

“I hope that she was gracious enough,” Bunny said at last, the first one to recover, “not to be rude to you.”

“She wasn’t.” Bucky shook his head. “Rude, I mean. I think she actually extended an olive branch to me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what she wanted to do.” Sarcasm was strong with Bunny, who couldn’t be bothered with Avengers’ sensibilities when her brother had been put in danger.

“She is indebted to you,” Bear said, driving her sister’s point home, “for how we helped Clint back then. The least she could do would be to be nice to you.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t see her being nice to me – polite yes, but not nice – but I’ll be honest, at least she wasn’t rude either. We just said a bunch of things that needed to be said and I think we arrived to some sort of truce. We’ll see now how things are going to be.” Bucky scowled playfully at them. “And I don’t need you to steal her number from Steve’s phone or something and vaguely threaten her.”

“I’m not sure whether we should be flattered by this or offended. Also, there wouldn’t be anything vague about it. Now, seriously, what gave you that idea?” Bunny’s tone of voice raised the hairs at the back of Bucky’s head.

“Please don’t threaten Black Widow. I wouldn’t be able to protect you – I think she eats guys like me for breakfast.”

“As a snack most likely,” Bear chimed in, and Bucky just had to tickle her.

“I see how it is – here I am, ready to defend you girls with my life and you’re making fun of my lack of shape. Well, then, steal her number at your own peril. I wash my hands of you.”

“Yeah, right, I’d like to see you standing by, while Black Widow is mean to me or to Bear.” Bunny waved dismissively at Becca. “Or even to Becca.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Becca scowled at her, crossing her arms. “Besides, I’d give her a run for her money. Only I can eviscerate Bucky with words for breakfast.”

“Wow, the love is strong with you girls tonight.” Bucky scowled at them playfully.

“Why are we talking so lightly about this though?” Bunny pouted, her eyes serious. “She could have taken you from us. Steve too. But at least he came to regret it. I actually never heard whether she’s apologized. Why should we be the ones to forgive and forget or whatever?”

“Because nothing happened in the end. Because we don’t hold grudges. Because it was a legitimate concern,” Bucky enumerated, fire simmering low inside his chest. “Because I don’t feel like holding this above their heads for the rest of their lives. I can’t be friends with Steve but then remind him of this every five seconds. And she’s his friend.” Bucky fully turned to Bunny. “I saw this morning how much she cares for him. In the same way you’d do anything for me or for each other, she’d do anything for him. Or Clint I assume.”

“Whatever, Bucky.” Bunny rolled her eyes. She scowled at him. “Yeah, we like Steve and we’re glad that you’re his friend. However, it doesn’t mean that I have to like his friends too. And I certainly don’t have to like her.”

“Of course you don’t have to like her. It’s up to you – your feelings are just as legitimate as mine. I’m just choosing a different path. Are you going to hold a grudge against Steve?”

“No,” Bunny pouted, “not if he keeps his promise to us.”

“And what promise would that be?” Bucky looked around at his sisters, intrigued, but they avoided his gaze.

“That’s for us to know and for you to ignore,” Bunny mumbled in the end, chewing the words like they were rocks in her mouth.

“Is this about that mysterious lunch?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at them but even Bear chose to ignore him, though she blushed furiously.

“And on that note,” Becca interrupted, slapping her hands against her thighs and standing up, “I’m afraid that I have to get ready for my date.”

“You still haven’t mentioned anything about it.” This time it was Bucky’s turn to pout.

“And I won’t,” she sing-songed, and literally sashayed out of the room.

“Don’t think you’re getting off so easy!” he shouted after her, only to be met with a loud scoff and sarcastic laughter. He looked back at his younger sisters. “I presume you know nothing of this guy.” They nodded in unison, a suspicious and complicit silence if there ever was one. “Fine, don’t tell me. It’s not like I won’t find out. I’ll have you know I have friends in high places now.”

“Steve won’t get you anywhere.” Bunny patted his knee and stood up. “But you can go and grab a shower, Sherlock. Becca cooked for us this afternoon.”

Bucky whined. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, Florence.”

“You know, there was a time when you were all very sweet and kind to your older brother.”

“Those days are over, if they ever existed in the first place.” She grabbed a few books from the coffee table. “I have an English essay to finish and a newly-painted wall to stare at, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“And I have to speak with Tammy.” Bear stood up as well. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek. “I’m glad that Clint is well too.”

And just like that, he was alone again in the living room. In the silence of the house, the memories lingered, bittersweet and singed with melancholy. Bucky was tempted to burrow himself under the comforter, a classic wallowing burrito as he liked to call himself. Instead though, he stood up and went to his room, refusing to let his thoughts linger on the man he had left behind that morning. He’d been hoping that his sisters would offer enough of a distraction from the image of Steve in pain.

He quickly discarded his clothes and walked under the shower spray. There wasn’t going to be a time when he wouldn’t want to be there for Steve in such kind of moments. If his vulnerable hands could soothe and offer solace, if only for short moments, then he would. Had someone asked him to describe his emotions within that very moment, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to find the necessary words.

He let the spray alleviate the sting of his sore shoulders as he pressed his hands against the cold tiles and closed his eyes. The whole day had left him feeling off kilter, but he longed to speak with Steve again. To have his arms around him. He swallowed hard against the sudden surge of emotion – nope, he should definitely not go _there_. That way only madness lay.

He was still moping on the couch in the living room a while later when Becca came into the living room, grabbing her coat and scarf. She looked beautiful in an emerald green sweater and dark jeans, casual enough to seem like she didn’t put too much effort in, but the way her wavy brown hair fell to her shoulders, the way she put just that extra bit of lip gloss on – well, Bucky knew his sister all too well.

“Why are you so flustered?” Bucky asked softly when she couldn’t find the sleeve of her coat and she swore, slightly flushed and probably eager to get the hell out of there.

“I am not flustered!” Her blush turned up a notch.

“You are – all blushing and shit.”

“God, you can be such an asshole when you have a migraine.” She fought with her scarf trying to find a nonchalant way to arrange it and failing miserably. Bucky smirked, though indeed his headache had returned with a vengeance. Yet, he should enjoy this – it’d been a long time since he’d seen Becca so flustered.

“Just tell me why you’re flustered,” he persisted just so he could be a little shit.

“Well, if you must know,” and she eloquently rolled her eyes at him, “I really do have a date.”

“A date?”

“A date.”

“Seriously?” Despite the fact that the secret had been revealed almost as soon as he got on the door, Bucky was stunned to hear the vehemence dripping from his sister’s voice.

“What?” She snapped, fiddling with the scarf to arrange it just right. “Do I need to explain to you the concept of a date?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re going on a date with a guy.”

“No, with a dinosaur.”

“I could make so many jokes right now, but I’m your brother so I’ll let you off the hook. This time.” Bucky smirked sharper when his sister pretended to check for something in her bag. “Is it Karim?”

“No! Ewww! Jesus, what is wrong with you?! He’s like a brother to me.”

“Then who?”

Becca huffed and pulled the zipper of her bag a little harder than she should have. “His name is Michael Proctor, he studies architecture and he has strong political convictions that could easily match yours."

“A gentleman?”

“Yes. But I’ll see how he treats the server tonight.”

“Good girl.” Bucky nodded for good measure, making himself wince.

“We’re checking a small restaurant – _The Little Cove_ I think it’s called. It’s not far, maybe half an hour by car. I should be back by ten, eleven at the latest.”

“Wallet? Keys? Fully charged phone? Pepper spray?”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes.”

“Let me know if I need to pick you up.” Bucky tapped his pointer finger to his chin. “Or if I need to come and rough him up. I can do both. I have friends in high places now.”

“I will, old man, though I don’t think that will be the case.” Becca pushed a strand of hair behind her ear several times, avoiding his eyes. “I think – I think he’s quite nice.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Becca,” he said, keeping his voice soft. A twinge of melancholy gripped at his chest – it had been so long since they did something so normal like going out on dates or staying overnight at friends’ houses. _Is that what you did?_ a treacherous voice inside of him whispered, the bitter taste of immediate assent thick on his tongue. He cleared his throat before saying, “I hope you have fun.”

“Me too.”

“And then, if this works well, I expect to meet him soon.” Bucky grinned sharply at her epic eye roll and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Jesus, it’s just a first date!” She pulled her bag over her shoulder and waved him off as she stepped out of the living room.

“I want to learn about his intentions, Becca!” he yelled after her and he could swear that she flipped him off. He chuckled when he heard her loud _bye_ and then the door slammed. Oh, this was going to be so much fun, he’d almost forgotten about his migraine.

He winced, then wiped at his face. _Almost_.

✧

Unfortunately, Bucky missed the auspicious moment of ribbing Becca as his migraine won the battle. It had left his eyes too sore and tired, his mind foggy with such pain that Bunny played nurse a couple of times, pressing tablets into his hand, determined to see him better, while Bear changed cold compresses, the cooling sensation soothing. By ten o’clock both he and the girls had clocked out, fast asleep and exhausted.

However, his mood or health didn’t improve much. Therefore, the following morning, just as he walked in the auto shop, Dugan took one look at him and said, “No,” then turned his back to him and walked into his office.

Groggy, Bucky blinked several times, inhaled the rest of his coffee, then walked after Dugan, “What do you mean _no_?” he asked, incensed, just as his boss was about to slam the door back in his face.

“I said no. Go back home and return when you look less like shit and more like a human being.” Dugan sat at his desk and crossed his arms, the logo of the auto shop tightening on his bulging bicep.

“Dugan, I’m okay.” Bucky would have rolled his eyes, had his headache not persisted in transforming his entire body into a tight coil about to spring.

“You look far from okay.” Dugan’s mustache twitched, the furrow of his brows lingering upsettingly. However, when he spoke at last, his tone was far more gentler than Bucky had expected. “I honestly don’t understand why you behave like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d die and your sisters would starve if you don’t put yourself in the ground first.”

The vehement tone shocked him. “Dugan, I –”

“You nothing, Bucky.” Dugan slammed his hands against the hard material of his desk. Bucky flinched, the noise echoing painfully around his mind. “You’re clearly not okay. You are so far from okay that if Darrell breathed a little harder beside you, you’d crash to the floor in two seconds tops. It equally annoys and shames me that you considered it necessary to show up at work when you look like you’re about to be splintered wide open.”

“Shames you?”

“Well, yes, what kind of a fa – friend,” Dugan rushed to find the right words, “have I been to you that you don’t even trust me enough to tell me how unwell you are and that you’re going to stay at home. Are you afraid of me? Is that it? You don’t trust –”

“Dugan, come on! II trust you with my life. It sure as hell isn’t about that!”

“Really? Then, Bucky, do tell, what the hell is this about?”

Bucky opened his mouth several times to add something but Dugan’s eyes burnt fiery and storm-like, as if a whole hurricane had burrowed itself inside his chest and howled wild and careless. Yet worry prevailed as always; therefore, when Bucky remained silent, Dugan sighed. He scratched his unshaven cheek and, softer, he said, “We’ll discuss this when you feel better. I’m tired of seeing you so stubborn and acting so irresponsibly, but this isn’t the time to have a meaningful conversation about it.”

“Irresponsible?” Incredulous, Bucky scowled at him. “Me?”

“You come here like the slightest breeze might kill you, out of it, when there’s enough machinery here to kill you twice at the slightest inattention.” Dugan narrowed his eyes at him, his jaw working overtime. “Please, tell me how else you’d call this shit. I’m willing to listen.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “If I say anything right now, you’re going to kick my ass most likely.”

“Rest assured that I’ll do that when you’re feeling better. Now get the hell out of my sight. I don’t want you around here until you’re fully recovered. For now, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Love you too, old man,” he shouted back, unwilling to admit the defeat of a last word that most certainly didn’t belong to him.

“I’ll kill you myself if I hear one more insolent word coming from your mouth.” Dugan glared at him. “Now get the hell out of here. I’ll call Dernier and tell that little Frenchie shit not to expect you to work this week. And call me if you need anything.”

“If I call for anything, can I bow out of that discussion that we’ll have?”

“Bucky, out!” Dugan growled. “Now!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bucky mumbled, put upon, though secretly he was glad to return to his bed. Any sarcasm scattered into the four winds when Bucky took in the sharp downward slope of Dugan’s lips, the worried furrow of his eyebrows. He bit the inside of his cheek, swallowed his pride, and got out of there before Dugan could keep his promise and kick his ass.

✧

Naturally, by Friday morning, Bucky became extremely grateful to Dugan for his wise decision as he woke up to the horrible impression that someone was trying to scoop out his eyes with a rusty spoon. He groaned as he hid his face into the pillow, his stomach rolling unpleasantly under the sudden onslaught of consciousness. His stuffy nose barely allowed him to breathe and he was disgustingly clammy; he wanted to lose consciousness for another twelve hours until this whole plague would disappear from his body.

When he was sure enough that he could open his eyes without actually losing the meagre contents of his stomach, Bucky noticed a full glass of water and some tablets on his nightstand. His lips twitched at the thoughtful affection of his sisters. Next to the glass, the alarm clock showed it was nine o’clock in the morning. Bucky moaned, then got out of bed with the measured moves of a ninety-year-old in order not to jolt his head or the sore muscles. By the time he got out of the shower and changed into clean clothes, the need to lay down again was overwhelming, the whole room spinning around him like an annoying carousel.

It was almost eleven o’clock when he dared to make his way downstairs and eat some breakfast. His sore throat didn’t allow him much variety but he managed to down some toast with butter and a solid mug of tea with so much honey he could drown a few bees in it. He grabbed some Tylenol tablets again and sucked on a lemon popsicle before he crashed on the couch and pulled the blanket over him, officially transforming into the most miserable blanket burrito to have blessed the living room in his life.

He couldn’t stand the TV, his head full of cotton and his ears about to pop. He couldn’t read because his eyes were hurting, red and sore. He basically couldn’t do anything to relieve the sea of muscular aches that had crashed over him overnight and therefore all the more miserable for it.

He was about to fall into another bout of self-pity when someone knocked at the door. He groaned and scrunched his eyes closed, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and think there was no one home. However, when the person knocked softly again, it got the better of him and, huffing like the old man he thought he was, Bucky stood up, wrapped his blanket over his trembling shoulders and went to open the door.

“Hey Buck,” Steve greeted him, his voice soft, as he entered the house and closed the door swiftly behind him. Bucky blinked blearily several times, gaping like a silly fish, unable to comprehend that Steve Rogers was taking his coat and shoes off inside his own house.

“Steve,” he mumbled suddenly, and, before he could think better of it, he basically crawled into the arms of the other man, nuzzling at that small space between Steve’s shoulder and neck. “You’re here.” The relief of his presence made all the sense to Bucky’s addled brain.

Steve’s hands travelled up and down Bucky’s back, in comforting half-abandoned journeys. His voice rumbled pleasantly against Bucky’s cheek. “A little bird told me you weren’t feeling so hot.”

“A little bird?”

“Bunny.”

Bucky groaned, but refused to vacate that wonderful space he found in Steve’s arms. “I forgot they got your number. Seems nothing is sacred anymore.”

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry they called and bothered you with this.”

“I’m glad they did.” Steve rested his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head. The insanity of _this might actually cure me_ crossed through Bucky’s muzzy brain – the tenderness of it, small and inconsequential as it might seem, could actually cure the plague that dawned on him. “I wanted to be here for you too,” Steve admitted in a tiny voice.

“You don’t have to.” Bucky raised his head only to lose himself to the gentleness of Steve’s eyes. “You shouldn’t feel obligated in any way to –”

“Buck,” and Steve’s hand cupped his cheek, his skin calloused and warm, “I don’t feel obligated in any way to be here. Aren’t we friends? Friends look out for each other. Also, friends made chicken soup from scratch and they want to test it on their friends because if they die because of it, at least they can blame it on the cold that you seem to have.”

“You made me chicken soup?” Bucky blinked, his mind foggy and vulnerable. He closed his eyes and nuzzled at Steve’s hand. “Thank you.”

A sharp intake of breath, then Steve cleared his throat. “Don’t thank me yet. It might not have turned out as great as I thought it would. Come on, let’s get you back laying comfortable. Did you take any medication?” Steve’s gentle hands steered him back on the couch, his hands fluffing the pillows underneath Bucky’s head, ensuring that he was tightly covered by the blanket.

“Yeah, I took the ones that the girls left for me. Also, I drank some tea.”

“Did you manage to eat something?”

“Some toast. Not much.”

“Want me to heat you some soup now or a bit later on?”

“Maybe later. I don’t think I’m able to swallow anything right now.” Bucky opened his eyes and took in Steve, the way he perched on the edge of the couch, his big hands hovering over Bucky’s body like he could physically pull the cold out of his body. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Bucky admitted outloud with all the vulnerability of a sick person, miserable and defenseless.

“I’m glad to be here too, Buck.”

“Will you stay until the girls come home?” Bucky slurred as he closed his eyes, already the exhaustion claiming him back.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me.”

“Forever then,” Bucky mumbled and Steve’s hitched breath might have alarmed him, had he been more conscious of what was going on around him. But the weariness had already claimed his body, its black talons squeezing deep within his chest and he fell asleep before he knew it.

When he opened his eyes some time later, he was welcomed back to the world of the living by the sight of Steve Rogers reading a book in Bunny’s favorite armchair, his legs carefully tucked underneath him, his brow furrowed in concentration. Bucky’s labored breath remained as steady as it could when faced with such a vision. Shakespearean sonnets would never do justice to the slight bow of Steve’s lips, to the furrowed brows and the square jaw, a little slack in concentration. How remarkable all his features seemed in all their mundane nature. How his mind could conjure paintings in his mind, their beauty paling in comparison with the vulnerable stoop of Steve’s shoulders.

A tender sort of want flushed brightly inside of Bucky – the desire to always see Steve so laid-back inside of his own home, the serenity between them light and tender.

“Could you read out loud a little? Please?” His words fell like a stone inside a well, its ripples jolting the tranquility of it. Steve startled and immediately looked up, his leg falling to the floor.

“Buck, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He rubbed at his teary eyes. “Could you please read to me out loud?”

“Sure.” Steve stood up and came to rest on his knees next to the couch. “Can you drink some tea first? It’s ginger and lemon, but I put some extra honey to mellow its taste a little.” His thumb caressed the inside of Bucky’s wrist, its warmth constant and anchoring.

Helpless against such tenderness, Bucky nodded and sat up a little. Steve carefully gave him a cup of tea, hot and scented, before he sat down beside Bucky and grabbed his book again. Bucky took a sip of his steamy tea, winced, smacked his lips and then took another sip, before he leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder and allowed the rumble of Steve’s voice to soothe him more than a tea ever could. He’d never be able to tell later on what kind of book Steve had read to him, but he’d remember to his dying day the soft tonalities of his slightly gravelly voice, the low pitches when something sad was about to be read.

“What did your mom used to do when you were sick?” Bucky’s voice sounded hoarser than a heavy smoker’s. Steve had taken a small break, reaching for a glass of water that he had probably brought for himself some time ago.

Steve’s blue eyes were soft like taffy when he answered, “She’d sing to me. She could still remember a bunch of Irish folk songs so she used to sing them to me while running her fingers through my hair. I thought nothing could hurt me in those moments, her voice soothing and kind.” Steve averted his eyes, swallowing hard. “What about your mom?”

“She’d read to me and kiss my forehead. Or my hands.” Bucky finished his tea and then set his mug on the coffee table, before snuggling under the blanket and leaning his head onSteve’s shoulder. “Her hands were so soft. And she used to smell like vanilla.”

“And your dad?”

“Dad was boisterous and full of life and he’d always scoop us in his arms and pretend that he was attacked by monsters when we ran to meet him at the door. He’d make these little noises –” Bucky rubbed at his forehead, “I thought I’d never forget them but they are fadingaway and soon they’ll be gone and –”

Bucky bit his bottom lip hard, smothering the sob that threatened to escape his lips. Why he was suddenly dumping everything on Steve, he couldn’t say. But the heaviness of forgotten memories hung over his head like a foretold doom. It’d been only four years since they had lost their parents and yet there were memories already fading away, like watermarks on old family photos, and Bucky lived in the terror that soon enough, he’d wake up one morning and realize that he had completely forgotten the way Ma’s voice sounded, what Dad said when they had that big argument back in 2008, or how they both laughed when Bucky had made cooing faces at Bear when they had brought her home from the hospital.

“When I first woke up,” Steve whispered, “all I had were memories. Waking up felt like death, like haunting a place where I once belonged but it no longer recognized me.” Bucky pulled out a hand from underneath the blanket and gripped Steve’s hand. Steve’s wry smile melted against the top of his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I always find myself confessing things to you, things that otherwise, I wouldn’t be caught dead telling them out loud, even to myself.”

“I don’t know why, but I hope you know that I’d never betray your trust and that whatever you tell me will always stay between just you and me.” Bucky brought that invulnerable hand to his cheek and pressed it tightly against its flushed skin, a silent oath of everlasting loyalty. Steve’s breath stuttered in his chest.

“Sometimes,” Steve said in the tiny space between them, “I think we are haunted not so much by the memories that keep fading in time, but by the _what ifs_ and _what could have beens_. What if you hadn’t lost your parents in the attack? What if I hadn’t crashed the plane into the Arctic Ocean?”

“We wouldn’t have met.”

“And that would have been a terrible loss for me indeed.” There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in Steve’s voice.

“You wouldn’t have found yourself hounded by three girls in search of justice.”

“And I wouldn’t have had anyone to share my love of sandwiches.”

“Or secret gardens.”

“Or paintings.”

“Or books. Also, you wouldn’t sit on this terrible couch with me being slobbered on and hearing me sneeze every goddamn five seconds.”

“Yes, this indeed would have been a terrible loss.” Steve’s smile was a thing of beauty when Bucky opened his eyes to look up at him. “And no one would have squeezed my hand as hard as you do.” The words came out soft and lilting.

“And you wouldn’t have had to make chicken soup from scratch,” Bucky croaked because he couldn’t let go of Steve’s hand. _He couldn’t_. His entire body vibrated like an exposed nerve, raw and sore, and Steve was the only thing holding him together.

“You haven’t tasted it yet,” Steve murmured and leaned his forehead against Bucky’s. “It might be horrible.”

“You wouldn’t have brought it over if you thought it was horrible.” Bucky closed his eyes against the onslaught of the vulnerability pressing against the edges of his consciousness. “I’m so glad you came.”

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.” Steve pulled his hand away, leaving Bucky bereft and exposed, only to wrap his arms around him and bring Bucky’s head to rest on his shoulder, his hand squeezing him lightly at the back of his head, his fingers winding into the sea of messy curls. “I’ll take care of you.”

He sounded like he was taking a blood oath, loyalty and affection forever bestowed upon Bucky to do as he pleased with them. Never one to be left behind, Bucky pushed further inside Steve’s embrace and swore as well, “And I will take care of you too.” The moment expanded around them like cooling molasses, their arms around each other the only thing to hold them anchored together.

After a while, Steve pushed away and gently cupped Bucky’s cheek. “I think I should heat up that soup now.”

Bucky followed Steve to the kitchen, all miserable and wrapped up in his blanket like a shield. An alien experience to have someone different in their kitchen, the space that had belonged to his family for so long. From the mismatched colorful chairs that Ma had chosen to the tiny corner of books and stacks of bills to their fridge with tons of notes and written jokes that belonged to them alone. Yet having Steve within that space, moving around with surety and confidence, broke the vulnerability of the moment –

“I like seeing you here, in my kitchen,” he confessed, the words horrifyingly honest in the silence of the afternoon. His eyes widened as Steve froze, his hands on the small pot that he had just poured the soup he had brought over into. Then a shy little twitch of full lips and a gravelly, “I like being here too, Buck.”

Warmth spread like wild fire inside his heart, a kind of ordinary joy that colored everything in much more hopeful hues. He smiled too and ducked his head, unable to contain the sudden flush that flooded his cheeks, that had nothing to do with his cold.

The faint autumnal sunlight bounced from the few leaves left on the trees as they joyfully joined them in the kitchen. Bucky put his arms on the table and rested his head on them, closing his eyes and enjoying the proximity of another person in his space. The quiet sounds of a meal prepared, of tea being made, the gentle presence of a person that cared about him.

 _A friend_. His heart stuttered at that. A friend? Were they –

“Come on, Buck. Let’s get some food into you.”

He raised his head and smiled sheepishly at Steve, whose lips stretched into an affectionate smile too. “What happened to maybe I’ll give you food poisoning?”

“It doesn’t taste as bad as I feared.” Splotches of red bloomed on Steve’s shaven cheeks, though he set the bowl of soup in front of Bucky with more confidence than he projected a few seconds ago.

“Thank you for doing this, Steve,” Bucky said softly, hoping that his croaky voice carved enough gratefulness into the thin air between them.

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

“I don’t have to. Besides, it’s been a long time since someone cooked for me – I mean, apart from my sisters.”

“What about Darrell?”

Bucky snorted, which automatically made him sneeze a few times, so he had to reach for tissues to wipe up the mess of his face, all the while blushing absolutely furiously. “Jesus, snot all over! God, save yourself, pal! You definitely didn’t sign up for this.”

Steve grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it lightly, making him forget about everything. “You forget that I spent more time in my own frail body than in this one that I have now. I promise you I am all too familiar with the indignities of the human body and I would never ever judge you for it. Or anyone else for that matter.”

Bucky found himself rooted to the chair. “How do you know how to say the best things everytime?”

“I remember a few occasions when I did exactly the opposite.” Steve squeezed his hand one more time before he let him go. “Now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wow, you really went there!”

“Pal, what can I say? When you think I can’t get it anywhere lower, I do manage to take you by surprise.” Bucky grabbed his spoon again and tasted the hot soup, which was absolutely delicious and maybe Steve Rogers had been a Michelin chef in another life after all. “This is great, Steve.”

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that from the sounds you produced.”

“No personal attacks, pal. I’m a wounded soldier here.”

“You have a cold, Buck.”

“I have the plague is what I have.”

“Whining much?” Steve hid his smirk behind another spoonful of soup, even as Bucky scowled at him.

“No one likes a smart guy, Steve.”

“But everyone needs one in their lives. Now I mean it, eat your soup. Then let’s see if you can tolerate some Tylenol and another cup of ginger tea.”

Bucky winced at the thought of it, but truth was that hot liquids did miracles to his scraped throat so he decided to keep his comments to himself and dutifully eat as much soup as he could. After they finished their respective bowls, Steve sent him in the living room again with another hot cup of tea while he cleaned up, despite Bucky’s croaky protests.

He was dozing off when Steve returned to the living room with his own cup of tea and another set of tablets for Bucky to take.

“Come on, Buck, rest some more,” Steve whispered after he grabbed some tablets and swallowed then with a mouthful of tea.

“But what about you?” Bucky asked even as he laid down the couch, drowsy and warm.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Pr’mise?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

His body must have spent the last ounces of energy for his trip to the kitchen because sleep gathered him into his wings of oblivion and carried him away from the astounding reality that Steve wouldn’t leave.

Fuzzy and overheated, his eyelids heavy like lead, Bucky returned to reality some time later to hushed voices and clinks of plates around him.

“– so of course he comes home furious. He says to Dad that he needs to tell him something,” Becca’s voice washed like a giant soothing wave over him. “I think he didn’t see me in the armchair so he blurts out about how he kissed Evan Tanner and how it sucked and how Dad’d better give him some tips. And all the while Dad sits there gaping like a fish, probably wondering where the hell he’d done wrong.”

Steve’s chuckled rumbled temptingly much closer than Bucky would have expected.

“Why are you always telling this story?” Bucky groaned as he opened his eyes. The scene that welcomed him back to reality was such a sweet one it actually took him several blinks to take all in.

The curtains had been pulled tight around the windows and only a few lamps scattered around the living room were on, casting their warm light around the room like silent fairies. The girls were casually lounging on the armchairs or on the floor, leftovers and cartons from what looked like Chinese takeaway from their favorite place scattered around the coffee table and the legs of the armchairs.

Steve was sitting down on the floor, a pillow against the couch to make him more comfortable. He had taken his sweater off, a black t-shirt stretching slightly on his chest. His sisters were also casually dressed in what Bucky used to call their home attire, messy buns and soft smiles.

“Well, that managed to wake you up.” Becca grinned at him even when he kept on scowling at her. “It’s better than an alarm clock.”

“Why would you need an alarm clock?” Bucky huffed as he pulled both arms out of the blanket he had been wrapped in. His voice sounded like he had taken a shot of broken glass, all gravelly and sore, and his throat definitely bore the brunt of it. He groaned and pushed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I really think I have the plague. Please kill me now.”

“It would be a mercy killing and we don’t deal with such matters here in Casa Barnes.” Becca sounded much closer so Bucky pulled one hand away to squint at her. “We still have some of the amazing soup that Steve made for you that you can have with a bit of bread if you think you can stomach it. Then more tea and some tablets.”

“And then back to bed. This time in your room,” Bunny added softly as she took some of the empty cartons to throw them away. “No, please, Steve, you’re a guest. We’ll clean this up while you ensure Bucky eats some soup.”

“Why do I have the feeling that I pulled out the short straw in this bargain?” Steve grinned like the little shit that he had been born and seemed less than impressed with Bucky’s scowl.

“I miss the times when you were all respectful and shy around me, pal.”

“Those times were definitely only in your head, _pal_.” It was utterly unfair how Steve’s lips could curl around that word, the casual sound of it filling Bucky to the brim with affection for this guy that could rip tanks in his spare time yet chose to be a nanny for Bucky’s ill ass.

“How about you stand up, _pal_ ,” Bunny interrupted their staring, “and eat your soup?”

“Why are you all ganging up on me?”

“Because you suck at taking care of yourself, that’s why,” Bunny said more firmly this time as Bear nodded emphatically in the background, the empty cartons bouncing slightly.

“Fine, be that way.” He attempted a feeble scowl at his younger sister. “Don’t think I forgot about the fact that you were the one to call Steve to take care of me.”

“You always think that you sound intimidating but you’re really not.”

Bucky pouted, his dry lips cracking like an open sore. But he ate the damn soup, rubbing at his eyes every once in a while, exhausted and sore, all under Steve’s watchful eyes. When he finished, Bear grabbed the bowl while Steve convinced him to down another set of tablets, shoving a hot mug of tea in his hands. Bucky had been so out of it that it took him a lot longer to realize that Steve was actually preparing to leave.

“You don’t have to go,” Bucky muttered and he bit his lips, wringing his hands. This lackluster offer surely couldn’t persuade Steve to stay here with Bucky, who was a mess: mussy hair, mismatched socks and definitely in need of a new change of clothes.

“It’s okay, I’ll return in the morning.” Steve cupped his cheeks when Bucky ducked his head, unable to hide his disappointment. “I promise I’ll be here bright and early.”

“Promise?”

“I thought I already did.”

“Can you promise again?”

“Promise.” Steve’s fingers curled slightly at the back of his head, their bodies closer than before. Bucky gently held onto Steve’s hips.

“Thank you for coming here today. It really helped having you here.”

“I’m not sure exactly how helpful I was but I’m glad I could be here for you.” Steve leaned forward and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky’s fingers convulsed on Steve’s trim waist. “Because you promised.”

“That I did, Buck.” Steve couldn’t hide his soft smile even if his life depended on it, or so it seemed to Bucky. Then he leaned forward and gently rubbed his nose against Bucky’s. “Make sure you rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Bucky closed his eyes, the gentleness overpowering, gripping tight at Steve. He pressed his flushed cheek against Steve’s and savored the exquisite agony of it. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, praying to anyone who would listen that his sisters wouldn’t come int.

“I don’t want to either.” The words seemed simple whips of ghosty air against his cheek. Steve remained silent though afterward and would’t confess what held him away from Bucky; so he didn’t press for more answers and clung to him as long as he could. 

“Come on, Bucky,” Becca mumbled later when he stared at the door, bereft and confused. Her hands curled around his shoulders lovingly. “He’s coming back tomorrow. Come on,” she said and pushed him more surely towards the stairs, “let’s get you to bed.”

He nodded and followed silently up the stairs, little comprehension pressing against the walls of his consciousness as to why he already missed Steve’s presence so much.

✧

The night was thick and dark around him, suffocating him with its heavy arms so he pushed away the covers and checked the alarm clock, his limbs heavy and weak, his head full of cotton. He blinked blearily at it. 2:41am. He whined, his mouth dry, his throat sore, sand dusting his eyes. Something was wrong – his muscles hurt, their deep ache pushing into the bony depth of him, the odd feeling of loneliness that crept on him in such a vulnerable state.

He grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over Steve’s name. His muddled brain begged him to touch lightly each letter, gently caressing the movable name and let the line connect. A kind voice, thick with sleep and worry, would answer and ask if he was all right, if he needed anything and Bucky would say _Just you, just you_. And it wouldn’t make much sense, it would probably exasperate Steve but he would come – _he would come –_ because Steve was kind and cared about Bucky. He brought sandwiches and his eyes crinkled when he smiled at him. Bucky rubbed at his eyes with one hand, while his fingers tightened on the phone. _Just come, please, just come_.

His ragged breaths echoed in the room, a soft of empty sniffling if there ever was one. Since his parents had died, the heavy curtain of loneliness had settled over his life with its heavy folds a few times, but nothing could be worse than when it draped around him at his most vulnerable. Often enough, he had been strong, the burdens of his mundane life keeping his mind occupied and his will to strive stronger than ever. But sometimes… he sometimes wished he could have allowed himself the luxury to slow down, let another wrap their arms around him and whisper _Everything_ _will_ _be all right. I’ve got you_.

Like now.

He couldn’t be selfish, he couldn’t call Steve – the man had responsibilities far beyond Bucky’s simple comprehension; he wouldn’t add himself to the list of burdens that Steve was already shouldering. He took short shuddering breaths through his mouth, his nose runny and stuffy, and stood up carefully, leaving his phone on the nightstand, the temptation of it bittersweet and alluring.

He went to the bathroom, quickly took a steamy shower, then changed into a clean pair of sweats and a fresh t-shirt. Mildly refreshed, he pulled on a soft hoodie and thick socks and went downstairs, purposely ignoring his phone, ensuring that he’d make as little noise as possible so as not to wake his sisters.

He put the kettle on and allowed himself to sink into a chair at the table, letting the silence and the semi-darkness of the room descend around him like sly cats. He had switched on the lamp by the window and the LEDs above the cooker, his headache not allowing him more. He’d drink a fresh cup of tea, take some tablets, and allow himself to sink back in the comfort of his bed, hoping that this cold would soon be gone and he’d feel more like himself.

He was just about to add more honey to his ginger tea when there was a soft knock at door. He blinked, tilting his head slightly, sure that he was wrong. There was no – a knock again, this one a little louder. A neighbor in distress? Someone with a break down in the middle of the night? On their street?

Bucky willed his socked feet to walk to the main door, grabbing his baseball bat from the closet. He wasn’t crazy enough to open the door in the middle of the goddamn night, so he tiptoed to the door, watching through the peephole.

_Steve Steve Steve_

Amazingly, Steve Rogers was staring back at him, his shoulders wider than life, scalded in the harsh beam of the porch light. Bucky almost dropped the bat from his hands before he calmed down enough to put it aside and open the door to him, his hands shaking on the key.

There could have been a number of things to say to him like _I’m so glad you’re here_ , _Did you read my mind?_ , _Steve you’re actually here._ But what came out was “What are you doing here?” The door opened wide between them, the harsh light spilling messily around them.

Dismay made Steve’s eyes widen comically. “You called me, Buck. I thought something bad happened.”

Bucky blinked. Had a lightning bolt struck him right then and there, he would have been less stunned than at being confronted by Steve’s presence on his porch in the goddamn middle of the night. This was illogical – he had actually left his phone upstairs, he didn’t even – Jesus Christ, was this reality? Did he actually call Steve in the middle of the night like a goddamn lunatic?

Frozen to the spot, Bucky couldn’t believe that Steve was there. Steve dressed in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, a hoodie clearly thrown on him in haste, white battered sneakers in his feet. All rumpled, hair in disarray, brows furrowed into a deep unsettled line. And all for Bucky. In the middle of the night, because of what must have been a nonsensical phone call.

“Steve, God, Steve!” He grabbed a handful of his hoodie and dragged him inside, closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize I actually called you.”

“Buck, no, please, don’t worry about it,” he said as he enveloped Bucky into a warm hug, his hands soothingly pressing him closer. “I’m glad that you’re okay. Well, taking into consideration how you feel. I feared the worst.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky choked on the name and, for the life of him, he couldn’t will his fingers to let go. Relief pulsed through him like fresh blood through a wound and he hid his face into Steve’s warm skin, just above the collar of that soft hoodie, his eyes scrunched tight against the sudden tears that threatened to be loosened.

“It’s okay now, Buck. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky rubbed his nose against his skin, even as Steve’s hands tightened on him, pressing a little harder, the inherent possessiveness of the gesture a balm for Bucky.

 _Just you_. Had he said that? Had he said that to Steve? Laying at his feet the worst of his vulnerabilities in the middle of the goddamn night? Shame scorched his insides, its waves crashing against the walls of undiluted relief that permeated his soul. It took him what felt like an eternity to let go of the miraculous man in front of him, lock the door behind them and pull him in the kitchen.

“I was making myself some tea again,” Bucky croaked, still unsure, gnawing at his bottom lip. In the dim light, Steve’s eyes were kinder still. “Do you want a cup as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you’re staying here tonight. Not going back.”

“Sure, Buck.”

“I’m not sending you back.”

“I was about to suggest sleeping on the couch anyway.” Steve’s soft smile was a thing of beauty, rumpled as he was. Bucky craved to sit in his lap and hide his face in that warm space between Steve’s shoulder and neck and pretend for just a wonderful miraculous moment that they existed for each other. He almost choked at the sudden image and blushed furiously. Thus he quickly turned his back to Steve, making to grab another cup and ignore the sudden haywire in his brain.

“I wouldn’t submit my worst enemy to the torture of sleeping on that couch,” he said at long last, his hands busy with pouring more tea.

“You slept on it most of yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, I was mostly out of it anyway.” He pushed the cup of tea in front of Steve so he could make it to his own taste, then sat down and stared back at him, a wild sort of courage pouring through his veins. “You will share the bed with me. It’s big enough for the two of us and I don’t have to worry about you getting this plague.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Steve stirred the honey into his cup. “I can –”

“We’ve already slept together, Steve.” Tiny splotches of color appeared on Steve’s cheeks, visible even in the semi-obscurity of the room. “What I meant is,” Bucky rambled on, unable to keep his mouth shut, “we’ve already shared a couch in tight quarters. Might as well share a bed in which we would barely touch.”

“And if we do, we could make that awkward shuffling that two people do when they sleep together for the first time, unused with their different routines yet.” Steve’s eyes glimmered with mischief. He was utterly adorable.

Bucky rested his head on his hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” He grabbed the nasal spray and used two puffs in each nostril to help him breathe better. This was definitely going to make him so much sexier in Steve’s eyes – not that he wanted to do that? He sighed – who was he kidding? “I mean, you could be one of those guys that don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Or I could snore. I’ve been told that I’m a terrible snorer. Though, to be fair, it was Tony that said that, so take it with a grain of salt.”

“I will definitely snore with the way my nose feels right now. I also tend to hog the covers.”

“I tend to be too warm all the time so you can have them.” Steve hid his smile behind the cup as he sipped from his tea. “I tend to navigate at night between pillows.”

“That’s not a problem. I tend to move little throughout the night.” Bucky drank his own tea. “But I do have cold toes.”

“You can use my legs as your natural heater.” He winked.

Bucky giggled like the ridiculous man he was. “So technically we fit pretty well, by the looks of it.”

“I didn’t have any doubts about that.” The seriousness of the statement contrasted with the kind smile that still lingered on his lips; consequently, Bucky’s stomach did another somersault, warmth bubbling inside of him. “I can always go home if you’re not comfortable with this, Buck. I know we’re joking but I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way to keep me here. I can always come back in the morning now that I know you’re okay.”

“I want you here.” The words sprung out of Bucky like a jack in a box. He immediately grabbed Steve’s hand, gripping at it tightly. “I might have called you without realizing it, but I want you here. I’m glad you came back. Please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. I definitely don’t.”

They didn’t push the matter further. They drank their tea in silence, their hands together, the uncertainty of who needed the comfort most abstract. The tranquility around them persisted even as they made their way upstairs, after washing the cups.

Bucky expected awkwardness blooming between them as they closed the door of the bedroom behind them, the small lamp that lit the room casting the unimaginable intimacy of it all in soft hues of gold. But they simply took off their hoodies and socks and sneaked under the blankets with nervous giggles like naughty children. They didn’t have to negotiate the sides of the bed, who switched off the lamp, who was more wrapped in the covers than the other.

In the sudden darkness of the room, with the headache alleviated by the tablets and the sore throat by the tea, Bucky could think more clearly, or well, clear enough, to wonder whether this should be a little weirder than it was. But then Steve’s arms wrapped around him, safe and warm, and he hid his cold toes under Steve’s calves and before he knew it, he was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [fancyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh) for always being there for me and cleaning my writing of my terrible mistakes. I'm greatly indebted to you. <3 
> 
> Apologies for the delay in publishing this chapter but yeah, there's little time or inclination to be creative currently. I'm hoping to be back on track with the next chapter. As always, I'm immensely grateful to you all for your messages, comments, reviews, kudos and just plainly reading this story. It might sound like empty words, but I'm truly grateful and humbled by each and every one of them. <3


End file.
